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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144412">Nothing Goes Wrong: Themiscyra Arc part 1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSaltyErik/pseuds/OneSaltyErik'>OneSaltyErik</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Themiscyra Arc [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom, SleepyBoisIncorporated, mcyt, sbi - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Bitch Gets What's Coming To Him, A Library Island, Aftermath of Torture, And Phil Kinda Did A Fridge Maybe?, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Philza, Bad Flirting, Bird Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Blood and Injury, Brotherhood, But People Think A Character Dies, Cause It Was Canon That Wilbur Had A Child With A Salmon, Comfort, Complications, Dadza, Demon, Depression, Desert Island, Drama &amp; Romance, Dubious Medical Practice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fake Character Death, Family, Family Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, He Gonna Be Sad, He Gonna Snap, He's technically still an heir to the throne but..., Hearing Voices, Heavily Greek Romance/Tragedy Inspired, Heavily Implied Psychosis Symptoms, Heavily Inspired By The Odyssey, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), I Just Wanted To Write Some Meet/Cutes, I'm Sorry This is Very Hetero, I've Never Written Romance Please Be Nice, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Islands, It's Not Exactly Too Canon Divergent, Kidnapping, Libraries, Library Dates Do Not Count As Therapy, Look I Needed A Reason For Ranboo's Existence Regarding The Previous Instalments, Madza, Medieval Medicine, Medieval Post Apocalypse, Meet-Cute, No Smut, No This Is Not A Wonder Woman Crossover, Other, Over Usage of Tea and Herbal Symbolism, Philza Whump, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Pining, Please Forgive me, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Canon, Prince Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sadza, Shipwrecks, Sickfic, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Survival, Swordfighting, Swords, TechnoNeedsAHug, Technoblade Whump (Video Blogging RPF), The Names Are Just Similar, The Odyssey References, Themiscyra, These Are Just The Characters Not The Actual CC's Don't Ship Real People, Torture, Twins, Whump, Wilbur Soot Whump, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilderness Survival, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), can be read as standalone, just fluff, no one dies, sbi, so fucking soft, soft, some canon divergence, they are brothers your honour, vengeance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSaltyErik/pseuds/OneSaltyErik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is never easy when you're a hybrid with a bounty on your head and two idiot sons.<br/>After being captured by bounty hunters, Philza, Techno, and Wilbur are separated in a violent storm, only to wash ashore on separate islands. A certain salmon girl rescues a drowned bard. An ice demon finds a broken bird washed ashore. A shy endergirl makes her first friend with an unlikely boar hybrid.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>NoSMUT - Relationship, Philza/Samsung Fridge, Technoblade/LucyEnderman, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Themiscyra Arc [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2250954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>199</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. “But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.” -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(CW: Graphic descriptions of violence in the first part of this story, including wing mutilation, torture, threats, broken bones, beatings, PTSD, non consensual but non sexual touching, stabbing, and drowning in a storm.<br/>As with all my works, please do not attempt any of the medical practices depicted, I am not a doctor, just a guy with access to the internet.) </p><p>(Disclaimer: the characters depicted are only the characters the CC's play as NOT the CC's themselves. I do not wish any of these events on real people, and do not ship real people. If, however, the CC's express at any time that they are uncomfortable with this depiction, I will take this down.) </p><p>(Do not attempt to make any of the teas or herbal remedies described in this work, some of these herbs are very toxic if ingested in the wrong dosage.) </p><p>Notes:<br/>Techno is a boar hybrid, aged 18<br/>Wilbur is a regular human, also 18, is Techno's twin<br/>Philza is a corvid hybrid, aged 30<br/>Sam is a halfway summoned (Half Demon) Ice Demon, probably in her thirties.<br/>Sally is a salmon hybrid and 18<br/>Lucy is my headcanon of an enderwoman, 18-19 ish </p><p>Themiscyra is an island of libraries full of old-world books and artefacts, guarded and managed by a group of women who said "fuck it, the mainland is shit" and left. The island is difficult to reach and said to just be a rumour in some places. </p><p>The world is post apocalypse but with medieval-esque technology and some magic here and there. The prime gods may or may not exist, no one knows for sure. Demons can be summoned but it is a very difficult ritual and can be easily messed up. There is a dying feudal system in place with noble houses and families that no one really cares about much anymore.<br/>Humans and hybrids are susceptible to a disease known as Blood Fever (see previous works) which affects people within their twenties and is usually fatal, hence why there are hardly any adults around. The island of Themsicyra is free of the disease due to a rigorous quarantine system. </p><p> </p><p>There I think all the disclaimers, notes, and CW's are out of the way. </p><p>Hey guys! This is the promised side arc I'd been teasing for ages! My sibling and I came up with it initially as a joke but then it got way out of hand now it's a full on side arc and yeah. It's still in the process of being written, so each time I write a new chapter, I will post one. Heads up though, the first couple of chapters are going to be the main whump-centric ones so if you'd rather skip to the fluff and romance and stuff, you might want to wait until I've update more.<br/>Still working on getting some character drawings actually posted so that you all have something of a baseline for the character designs. </p><p>Once again, thank you all so much for your support! My sibling and I read every one of your comments and try to reply to all of them. </p><p>Thank you so much for reading and we hope you have a good day! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Many Years Ago</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Phil was woken to the sound of Wilbur’s stifled scream and the sensation of a gag being shoved between his teeth. He swung his arms out, attempting to punch his assailants, only for them to be pinned by his side as many calloused hands gripped him, locking him against the ground. He struggled against their grip to no avail, only stopping once he felt the cold steel of a blade press against his throat. </p><p>He briefly caught sight of Wilbur, his arms being bound behind him as he fought against his captors, and a muzzle being fitted over Techno, pinned under the weight of multiple chains. </p><p>And then his vision went dark as a blindfold was tied across his eyes. </p><p>He felt ropes being cinched around his wings, cringing as the pressure threatened to bruise the sensitive skin beneath the feathers. His hands were bound behind him, the chords cutting into his wrists, and his ankles tied together. He felt himself being carried a ways before he was dropped hard into what felt like a cart. </p><p>After a moment, he felt the familiar knitting of Wilbur’s sweater against his back and heard Techno’s raspy snarls beside him. </p><p>The cart began to rumble beneath them. </p><p>And then it hit him, the realisation of what had just happened. </p><p>They’d been captured. </p><p>His boys had been captured. He had been captured. By whom or why, he didn’t know. Where they were headed, he didn’t know. What would happen to them, he could only assume…</p><p>He felt his heart sink as he heard Wilbur’s muffled whimpers behind him. </p><p>Phil threaded his fingers around the bit of cloth of his son’s sweater, hoping the boy could feel his hands. The reassurance was pointless, he knew that, but it was better than nothing. </p><p>He could only hope Techno wasn’t in the middle of an episode. Try as he might, he couldn’t reach him. He could only listen helplessly as the boy continued to snarl behind the muzzle. </p><p>The night passed by slowly. The warmth of the sun streaming onto Phil’s face was the only thing indicating that time had passed at all. He knew Wilbur hadn’t slept, the boy was still shaking. Techno had gone quiet at some point, but even he was still awake. </p><p>It wasn’t as though any of them could sleep at a time like this, he thought. </p><p>Phil tried to listen to the muffled voices of their captors, hoping to catch any hint of what might be happening, where they could be taking them. Any indication of how they could possibly escape. </p><p>He briefly heard talk of a ship, mentions of a market. He grinned a bit as he heard one of his captors complaining about a nasty bite from “the pink haired bastard.” At least they hadn’t gotten away with their kidnapping unscathed. </p><p><em> We’ll be at sea. </em> He pondered. <em> They’ll attempt to sell us. </em> </p><p>He tightened his grip on Wilbur’s sweater. They weren’t going to separate him from his boys! He silently promised he would die before he let them get away with this. </p><p>A plan began to form in his mind. </p><p>They arrived at the ship at around midday, Phil guessed from the angle of the sun on his face. He barely had time to register that the cart had stopped moving when he felt hands hoist him unceremoniously over someone’s shoulder. He could hear the sounds of booted feet crunching against the sands of the beach below them. Then onto the wood of a gangplank, the surf washing up beneath, occasionally spraying up onto Phil’s face. And finally onto the hollowness of a ship. </p><p>He was carried for a while, the sun’s warmth disappeared from his skin as he was taken below deck. Before he was dropped hard to the floor, his breath knocked from his lungs. He lay there, slowly trying to regain his breathing as he felt hands remove the blindfold and gag from his mouth, though his limbs still remained tied, before hearing the sounds of a metal hinged door slam shut. </p><p>Phil coughed, the taste of the gag still lingered in his mouth as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the hold before dragging himself upright. </p><p>He was in a cage, sort of. It appeared to have been a section of the ship originally used for just storage, separated into segments by iron bars, each segment with its own, sad looking inhabitant. A barred door locked each segment, cage really, from the rest of the ship. </p><p>Phil heard a small whimper in the cage to his left, noticing Wilbur, still bound, huddling in the corner. A young woman, perhaps no older than his own sons, with orange hair was curled on the opposite side of the cage, eyeing the boy cautiously. </p><p>“Wilbur?” Phil scooched himself towards the boy, leaning against the bars. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” </p><p>The boy pressed his face against the bars, his wide brown eyes laced with dried tears. </p><p>“My wrists hurt.” he mumbled. “But I’m okay.” </p><p>“Have you seen Tech-” </p><p>Before Phil could finish his sentence, there was a loud crashing sound outside the barred door. He saw a flurry of pink as his heart began to ache at the sight of Techno, iron collar about his neck, his arms chained to it from his back, kicking and snarling as he was dragged into the cage on Phil’s right. </p><p>There was a long moment of aggravating snarls, the sounds of blows being landed on Techno’s chest and shoulders as he struggled against his captors, before they finally slammed the door shut, storming away with a series of curses. </p><p>Phil felt his wings strain against their bonds, the feathers fluffing angrily at the sight of his son, his neck chained to the wall, an iron muzzle locking his jaws shut, slumped against the wall. His eyes red and glassy, his tunic torn. Bruises had begun to form along his exposed shoulders and chest from where he had been hit. His hair hung wildly about his face. </p><p>“Tech?” Phil swallowed back the pain in his throat at the sight. “Are you with us? Techno?” </p><p>The pink haired boy blinked, his breathing slowing, before turning his head to Phil. His ears twitched as he nodded. </p><p>Phil sighed in relief. He hadn’t gotten lost within an episode. Yet…</p><p>“Can you talk?” he asked, hoping the muzzle hadn’t muted him. </p><p>Techno shook his head. </p><p>It had. </p><p>“Okay...okay.” Phil sighed, his mind churning as he tried to think of a plan. </p><p>“Wilbur?” he finally asked. “I’m going to put my hands through the bars, do you think you can untie them?” </p><p>“Yeah?” the boy replied. “But, what exactly-” </p><p>“We’re all fairly unharmed, just a bit shaken.” Phil explained, shuffling to place his hands between the bars for Wilbur. “I don’t think they’ll be expecting us to retaliate this quickly. I still have some wire in my coat, if you and I can get our ropes undone, I can pick the locks and get Techno out.” </p><p>He felt Wilbur’s skilled finger’s beginning to pick the knots from Phil’s wrists, undoing them in no time at all, allowing Phil to return the favour before picking the lock on his cell. </p><p>He felt the ship lurch beneath him as he fiddled with the lock and inwardly swore. Sure he could fly, but the further they went from the shore, the more his boys would have to swim. </p><p>He shook his head, they’d worry about that later. </p><p>He could hear the waves of the shoreline beginning to fade as he finally finished unlocking the door to Wilbur’s cage, flinging his arms around his son. </p><p>The boy immediately set to work undoing the ropes that bound his wings, flinching as Phil hissed whenever his hands pulled a rope too hard or slipped against the sensitive skin of his wings. </p><p>“Sorry.” the boy stammered, flinging the last bit of rope away. </p><p>“I’m fine.” Phil assured him, cringing as he flexed his wings for the first time in hours. They were sore, no doubt bruised from having been locked in place for so long, but were otherwise fine. He could worry about them after they had escaped. </p><p>Once the last door had been unlocked, the two immediately set to work on freeing Techno from his chains. If anyone was going to guarantee their freedom, it was him. </p><p>The boy spat as the muzzle was finally removed from his mouth, rubbing at his jaw, red from the pressure that had been placed on it for so long. </p><p>“You up for a fight?” Phil patted the boy’s back. </p><p>Techno’s red eyes glittered. </p><p>“I’m gonna fucking shred them!” he snarled. </p><p>“And you?” Phil asked Wilbur, flexing his fingers, mentally preparing himself for the fight that was bound to happen. </p><p>The boy’s dark eyes narrowed as he drew a lighter from his pocket. “Let’s send this place to hell.” </p><p>It was only before the three were about to make their way to the deck that Philza remembered the young woman, still curled in the cage that Wilbur had been locked in. </p><p>“You coming?” he held his hand out. </p><p>The girl’s golden eyes watched him cautiously. There was something...different about her, Phil noted. </p><p>“I’m waiting.” she said softly. </p><p>“I’m sure we can help you much faster than whoever you’re waiting for.” Wilbur flicked the lighter anxiously. </p><p>The girl shook her head. “Not waiting for people. </p><p>She pointed upwards, as though gesturing towards the sky, a toothy grin appearing on her face. “Waiting for the storm.” </p><p>“You should wait too.” she hugged her knees to her chest. “The storm will free us.” </p><p>Techno nudged Phil with an elbow. </p><p>“I think she’s lost it.” he whispered. </p><p>“You’re one to talk.” Wilbur hissed. </p><p>Phil sighed. </p><p>“Alright,” he turned back to the door leading out to the ship’s deck. “But if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join.” </p><p>He kicked the door open and chaos erupted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. “Sitting, still, weeping, his eyes never dry, his sweet life flowing away with the tears he wept for his foiled journey home.” -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza horribly underestimated his captors, now he's suffering the consequences.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: graphic description of torture, wing mutilation, threats and hostage situations, blood, trauma. </p><p>Sorry for the depressing chapter, I'm working as fast I can to get the next ones done so I can get to the actual cute shit. Thank you for being patient and thanks for reading today :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Phil froze, hovering in the air above the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had this happened? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t supposed to happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This couldn’t be happening! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was pinned, another muzzle placed over his mouth, snarling and kicking but unable to throw off the pile of men holding him in place with chains and ropes and spears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was screaming, his hands being twisted slowly behind him as he was pushed to his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had all happened so fast! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had bolted towards the first weapon he had seen once he had opened the door, tackling the man to the ground and biting out his throat as he stole his crossbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had seen Techno barreling people to the deck, goring them with his tusks and claws when he wasn’t sending a flurry of punches directly to their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had seen Wilbur lighting a piece of rigging on fire, dragging the flaming rope about with a manic look across his face as he attempted to set the deck ablaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only for far more men, than Philza had thought were there, to suddenly drop from the rigging and clamber up from below deck, quickly surrounding the boys. Within seconds they had overwhelmed them all, quenching the fires that dotted the deck before they even had a chance to catch properly, and tackling the boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil held the crossbow he had stolen in the chaos with shaky hands, unable to pinpoint who or what to aim at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had he been so stupid? How the hell did he think he could just take on an entire ship of men with only his sons and no weapons? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d severely, horribly, underestimated these hunters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Philza!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He aimed the crossbow at the voice, a dark haired man with a scar across his lips was walking casually down the steps from the helm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Angel of Death!” the man drew a knife and began picking at his fingernails with it. “You’ve amassed quite a name for yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil dropped to the main mast of the ship, perching atop it, wings flared as he aimed the crossbow at the scarred man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” his wings bristled, the feathers taking on a more spine-like appearance as he fluffed them with rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, actually.” The scarred man knelt beside Wilbur, still on his knees, and brought his knife up to the boy’s neck, pressing against the soft spot between his chin and throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got so many bounties on your head from so many places, it would be a shame to not to cash in on that.” the man pressed the knife upwards, slowly, forcing Wilbur to tilt his head up lest his skin be pierced, exposing his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then take me!” Phil snapped. “The boy’s have nothing to do with this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, they certainly do.” Wilbur gasped as the knife pierced the skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil hissed, bringing the crossbow’s sights to his eye, aiming for the scarred man’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see,” the man slowly twisted the knife as Wilbur recoiled against the blade, blood dripping down his throat. “I think they’re the perfect leverage to keep you from trying to leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur cried out as the blade began to sink into his neck. Phil could see Techno writhing at the sound of his twin’s pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to stay perched up there little birdy?” the scarred man grinned. “Or are you going to come down and keep your sons from being hurt any further?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil swallowed, then swore as he dropped to the deck of the ship, tossing the crossbow aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put the knife down.” he demanded. “I’ve dropped my weapon, you drop yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scarred man chuckled. Wilbur began to whimper as the knife sank ever so slightly deeper into this neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put your hands together.” the man grinned. “In front, where I can see them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil had no choice but to comply. Immediately a crew member locked them together with a pair of shackles before tying them to a rope, hoisting them above his head until he hung, suspended by his wrists, his feet barely touching the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wings out.” the scarred man asked quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil bared his teeth, only to extend his wings as the man pressed the blade further into Wilbur’s throat, threatening to puncture his windpipe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced as he felt hands grabbing his wings, wrenching them downwards, cinching ropes about them and pinning them to the floorboards of the ship below him. He clenched his jaw shut as he felt their sockets in his back straining from the pressure being forced on them with each swaying movement of the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scarred man finally removed the blade from Wilbur’s throat, pressing a cloth to the wound before cleaning the blade on the boy’s sweater. He grinned as he began to walk towards Phil, twirling the knife playfully between his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil stiffened. “What do you want from me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you.” the scarred man shrugged, placing the tip of his blade against Phil’s sternum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to kill me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man laughed. “Not at all! Your bounty is worth far more alive than if you were dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lazily ran the knife along Phil’s chest, not enough to cut the fabric of his tunic, but enough to still feel the pressure of the blade threatening to puncture him at the wrong movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want your boy’s to understand,” the man continued to drag the knife around Phil, making his way to his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil felt the bile of fear rise in his throat as he felt the knife pressing against the skin of his wing sockets, poking out through the holes of his tunic and coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That if they try anything stupid,” Phil flinched as he felt the blade combing through the feathers on the underside of his left wing, lightly scratching at the sensitive skin beneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be the one to take the fall.” The blade was withdrawn and for a moment Phil felt himself relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not worried about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>do if you hurt them then?” Phil hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scarred man chuckled and Phil’s heart began to race as he felt the man’s hand coil up around a handful of his primary flight feathers on his left wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I be scared of a broken man?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil bit back a scream as pain shot through his wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kicked backwards at the man, only for pain to burst once more from his wing as the man tore another handful of primaries from the feathered limb, dancing to the side with a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep that up and I’ll have your boy’s throats slit, Philza!” he laughed, waving three black feathers, their ends dripping with blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil had no choice but hold still, biting his tongue until it bled as the scarred man continued to tear his feathers from his wings, humming to himself with sadistic pleasure each time a feather was plucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt! Gods it hurt! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil no longer cared that his eyes were watering, he no longer cared that he whimpered at each feather being torn from his wing, he no longer cared that he showed weakness in front of his sons. It hurt too much to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut as he began to cry softly, trembling as the pain tore its way from his wing and into his shoulder, his back, his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sensed something within him break as he felt the last primary on his left wing being plucked out. Like a chord being snapped, a piece of glass shattering to tiny fractals, something dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screamed in fear and agony as the man continued the torture on his right wing. Each feather plucked sent a shock of pain through to his core, as not only were his limbs being mangled by the man’s hands, but his freedom was taken away, one feather at a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the last flight feather was removed, Phil was little more than a shaking, sobbing wreck. He barely registered the impact to his side as the rope was cut from above him and he collapsed to the floorboards below, trembling in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wings burned but he was freezing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to, back in his cell. His bleeding wings were tied together once more, the shackles on his wrists remained. Deep red welts had carved themselves into the skin from when he had been hung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Wilbur’s gentle hands stroking his hair through the bars as the boy hummed softly. In the far cell to his right, he could hear chains being tugged repetitively as Techno half heartedly yanked on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...don’t…” Phil tried to speak, gods his throat was dry. “...don’t hurt yourself, Tech…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chains stopped rattling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philza?” he heard Wilbur’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil closed his eyes once more, leaning into his son’s hand as he tried to block the pain from his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Phil-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.” he said softly. “Don’t apologise. You did nothing wrong Wilbur. Techno.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled up against the bars, trembling, as Wilbur continued to stroke his hair. Sleep eventually took him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain didn’t leave. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Passage home? Never. Surely you’re plotting something else, goddess, urging me..." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur makes an unlikely friend and the two begin to plot an escape plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: mentions of chains creating sores, mentions of a neck wound from a puncture, references to past chapter's torture. </p><p>(I write a chapter, I post a chapter. Sally is honestly really fun to write, and that's saying something cause I'm pretty bad at writing female characters I find. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“May I see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur jumped at the voice beside him, he hadn’t even noticed the girl sidling up next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your neck.” the girl pointed at the loose bandage about his wound. “I know some first aid, may I see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur glanced back to the other cells. Philza was unconscious, pressed up against the bars, his head still under Wilbur’s hand. Further down, Techno was half heartedly tugging at the chain around his neck, digging a reddish sore across his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I guess?” Wilbur stroked Phil’s hair as the man whimpered in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilted his head up, allowing the young woman to inspect the wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she unwrapped the bandage, frowning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is...is something wrong?” Wilbur asked, worriedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too loose.” the girl shook her head, tearing a strip of fabric from the hem of her dress and wadding it up, pressing it against the wound before cinching the bandage about his throat, tighter than it had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were still bleeding.” she explained. “That should help stop it for now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur lightly traced the edge of the bandage, trying not to remember the knife puncturing his throat as his heard his father screaming in agony- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have another look in an hour.” the girl tucked her knees back to her chest, folding her arms over them, before resting her head atop them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Wilbur muttered quietly. He felt Philza flinch beneath his hand and quickly continued to stroke the man’s hair reassuringly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can,” he addressed the girl. “Can you help him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” the girl eyed the hybrid behind the bars. “I don’t think there’s much I can do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” she shook her head. “I don’t know how to help wounds to the soul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed, he didn’t quite understand what she had meant, but even he knew Phil had been hurt deeper than just his wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing the ability to fly. He’d seen his father moulting before, the man was always moody, even paranoid during that time, as flying became difficult and even dangerous with his feathers dropping out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now however, having gone through the pain of having his wings mutilated, even if the feathers did grow back, there was something...something deep had been hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sally.” the girl’s voice brought Wilbur from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur.” he replied half heartedly, still watching Phil as the man slept fitfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t look like a hybrid.” Sally stated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” he looked back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed oddly calm for someone who had been kidnapped and held for who knew how long aboard the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m human.” he explained, studying her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” she twirled a lock of autumn hair between her fingers. Her golden eyes drifting up to the ceiling, as if lost in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m not.” she looked back at him, flashing a series of needle like teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uh…” Wilbur gulped. “I can see that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally giggled. “You’re scared of my teeth but have a boar hybrid for a friend?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother.” Wilbur corrected her. “Twin, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And no,” he stiffened. “I’m not scared of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s good.” Sally laughed. “Cause I like you. Can’t have you being scared of me if I like you, you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked, confused as he felt his face flush suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like that!” Sally rolled her eyes. “You just seem nice is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hugged her knees to her chest. “It was nice being offered a chance to escape.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” she nodded to Philza. “You’re very kind. It’s nice to see humans that don’t immediately hate hybrids.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my father.” Wilbur explained. “Why would I hate him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised.” Sally shrugged. “Families are pretty hit or miss when they suddenly find out they had a latent hybrid gene in them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my birth father,” Wilbur tried to explain. “I don’t actually remember who that was. But, Philza’s still my dad all the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally smiled, gently this time, no flashing of her needle sharp teeth. “He seems like a very good man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur leaned back against the bars, the motion of the ship beginning to make him feel queasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind my asking,” he thumbed the edge of the bandage on his neck. “What type of hybrid are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally giggled again, almost sounding like a series of bubbles under water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she smiled. “I can’t tell you that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Wilbur felt a smile playing about his own face now. Was she...was she teasing him? He wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cause I can only tell the man I plan to marry.” she fluffed her dress up around her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur noticed they were scratched up in places and almost grey in colour on her knees and bare feet. That was odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Sally cocked her head to one side, her orange hair drifted across her shoulders. “Don’t you think that would be romantic? Telling my one true love my biggest secret? And us being the ones to keep it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds a bit childish.” Wilbur huffed. Still, he had to admit, it was a bit cute to think that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m eighteen,” Sally crossed her arms. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t think it’s childish.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m eighteen too.” Wilbur mimicked her. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh piss off.” the girl flashed her teeth at him again, her amber eyes glittering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur snorted. She was...actually kind of fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mentioned a storm earlier?” he asked, remembering the odd comment she had made before the failed escape attempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yup!” Sally twirled her hair around her fingertips once more. “There’s a storm coming.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Metaphorically or for real?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For real.” Sally nodded. “I can sense it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur had seen both Philza and Techno make the occasional comment about sensing things, a cold spell, rain, being watched. He supposed it must have been something hybrids were more attuned to than the average human. Still, being able to predict an entire storm? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe… maybe she could?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe she had just lost it from being here for so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not crazy.” Sally insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a sharp sting to the air.” she explained. “It makes my nose itch. And I can feel pressure in my shoulders. So,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “That means there’s going to be a storm in maybe, two days?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you plan on escaping then?” Wilbur picked the edge of his sweater around his neck. “Won’t that just be dangerous?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally laughed. “Aren’t we already in danger? What’s a bit more?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The way I see it,” she stretched her arms. “We can either rot here until we reach port and have our lives sold away to the highest bidder. Or…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned at him mischievously. “We use the obviously more dangerous threat of a storm to escape from the current danger we're in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be too busy trying to keep the stupid ship from capsizing to really care too much about us escaping, we can just take a rowboat and risk it.” She leaned back against the wall. “And if we die, well, we died on our own accord and not from someone else’s choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked. She was crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re crazy.” he repeated his thoughts aloud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Sally smiled at him. “Wanna be crazy with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held a hand out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked at her hand, pale and greyish near the knuckles and wrist, before looking back up at her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were so gold, he realised. So golden and warm and wild. He felt his face beginning to flush once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed a hand over his mouth and looked away as Sally laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's up with you?” she giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Wilbur snapped, wiping the flush from his face before glaring back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking crazy.” he took her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s what makes things fun, though.” Sally laughed. “What’s life without some craziness thrown in for a bit of flavour?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur released her hand, trying to change the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he asked. “How exactly do you plan on getting us out of here during the storm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally’s eyes lit up with wicked delight. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "But if you only knew, down deep, what pains are fated to fill your cup before you reach that shore.” -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno is starting to slip the longer he stays in chains.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: depiction of psychosis symptoms, implied PTSD, references to torture, chains, pressure/abrasion wound description on the neck, non consensual but non sexual touching, exhaustion, blood, dehydration, starvation. </p><p>(Sorry for the short chapter today, but thank you for reading and I hope you all have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Techno leaned his back against the wall of the ship, watching as his brother and the girl explained their plot. His shoulders ached from the position his arms had been chained in. He was dizzy from both the rocking of the ship and the scene he had witnessed not more than an hour before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The damned men who had locked him up were wise to have put a muzzle on him. The second he was free of it, he swore they would face the wrath of his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, the muzzle kept his mouth clamped shut. The metal dug into his chin and cheeks like rusted fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what felt worse. The aching muscles in his back and shoulders from the chains, the muzzle digging into his jaw, or the iron collar around his neck, rubbing his skin raw beneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears twitched as he saw Philza shift, moaning weakly in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno clenched his eyes shut against the memories, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dadza….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They hurt him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They hurt him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill them! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL THEM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tear them! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Break them! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL THEM! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dadza!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t hurt him! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HURT THEM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL THEM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Tech?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s gentle voice broke his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Tech...don’t hurt yourself.” The man was still lying in the corner of his cell, his blue eyes glazed with pain, but a soft smile played about his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno realised he had been pulling the chains, the iron collar digging a red welt around his neck at his movements. He relaxed a bit, leaning back against the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished the chain was longer, he wished he could lean up against the bars as Phil’s comforting hand stroked his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished Phil wasn’t hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished the scarred man was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, hoping to at least save some form of strength for when the plan fell through in two days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened them again it was dark. His throat was dry. He could feel the faint gnawing of hunger in his stomach. No doubt the others would be too, he thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back at the cells beside him. Phil hadn’t moved, still curled in the corner beside Wilbur’s side of the cage, the twin’s hand still combing through the man’s hair reassuringly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur seemed to have zoned out, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere Techno couldn’t see. On the outside, he appeared listless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno knew better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl who had called herself Sally was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, occasionally letting out a small huff, blowing a lock of autumn hair from her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time do you reckon it is?” he heard Wilbur ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl shrugged. “Probably just after dark. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think…” Wilbur shifted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah they won’t starve you.” Sally rolled over onto her side, stretching her arms. “They usually give out rations in about half an hour.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t expect anything great though.” she added. “It’s just to keep you alive, not much else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Food…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Take the muzzle off…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BITE THEM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tear them…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TEAR!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When the muzzle is off…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BITE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BITE THEM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was an idea, Techno thought. Although, a part of him doubted they would. More than likely, after seeing what he was capable of, they wouldn’t remove the muzzle unless he was on the brink of death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His theory was proven correct. A half hour later, the scarred man returned, guarded by two others, crossbows in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno snarled as the guards pointed the weapons at Wilbur and the girl, ordering them to keep their hands up as the scarred man unlocked the cell door, placing a tray of something before the two, humming to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a word, the man moved on to Philza’s cage, motioning the two guards to point their weapons at Techno now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evening birdie.” the scarred man knelt before Phil, setting the tray down beside him. “I hope you’re still well enough to drink?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno continued to snarl beneath the muzzle as he watched Philza weakly drag himself upright, glaring at the man with cold, blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m well enough to carve your eyes out.” he said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh careful little bird!” the scarred man chuckled, before grabbing Phil’s chin with a vice like grip, tilting his head up to look at him. “Keep that tongue of yours and your boys will end up in far worse shape than you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s snarl grew to a strangled roar as he launched himself to the end of the chain, struggling against the iron collar as he kicked at the bars of the cage. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t touch him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DON’T TOUCH HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll kill you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCKING KILL YOU!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Touch…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TEAR APART!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL THE BASTARD!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DON’T TOUCH HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices morphed into a cacophony of noise. Some laughed. Others screamed. A few cried. Most screeched in rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno continued to tear against the chains even after the man had released his father, turning to stare at him instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glared, thrashing against the collar, as the scarred man gave a small chuckle before leaving the cell, motioning for the guards to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they were left in the dark once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tech?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at the sound of Phil’s voice, the man’s blue eyes were laced with worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright Tech.” Philza reassured him. “Did you hurt yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shook his head. It was a lie, his movements had torn open the layers of skin around his neck and collar, sending little trickles of blood down his chest, staining his tunic. The pressure on his throat was beginning to flicker a dark memory at the edge of his mind. He pushed it back down, shaking his head repetitively to stop it from forming fully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t give you anything, did they.” he heard Phil’s voice almost shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Tech.” he heard Phil slump against the bars closest to him. “I’m so sorry…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno didn’t sleep that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat was so dry. His stomach began to ache with hunger. His back and shoulders and arms and neck were burning from their restraints. He would have been impressed if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep through that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was at least grateful that Wilbur and Phil had managed to rest, if only for a bit. They would need it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day passed by agonisingly slow. The soreness in his throat only grew worse throughout the day, the voices grew louder, angrier, with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The exhaustion, the hunger, the unbearable thirst, that horrid pressure on his throat. Techno knew he was walking at the beginning of an episode. He had fought it for hours now, but it was only a matter of time before he was fully gone inside his mind. He only hoped nothing bad would happen to anyone while he was out. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. "...you’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm me!” - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza breaks. </p><p>(I'm so sorry)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Psychosis symptoms (Techno), dehydration/starvation/exhaustion (Also Techno), threats, torture (breaking of bones and dislocation of bones), non consensual but non sexual touching. </p><p>(Who keeps hurting my boys?! ....me. That's who. I have no one to blame but myself. I'm so sorry. They escape soon I promise! Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza could only watch in silence as Techno continued to tug against the chains, shaking his head occasionally as he fought off an episode that was sure to erupt at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to not be able to help his boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished there was some way to reach him, hold him, tear that fucking muzzle off! He looked so dehydrated, if he could just get him some water…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s ears flattened as he heard the sounds of footsteps entering the hold. He shuffled to his knees, hissing as the movements sent a sharp pain through his wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only one more day, one more day and then they could escape with the storm, he told himself. He could work with this for one more day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Techno… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes drifted back to where the boy leaned against the wall, his breathing growing shallow and rapid as he began to slip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how much longer Techno would last before he snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same pattern as yesterday began as the scarred man appeared. Motioning his guards to aim their crossbows at his sons before opening the cells, sliding a tray of bread and water inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil glared at the scarred man, refusing to touch the tray or its contents as the man passed by his cell, turning his attention to Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, poor lad.” the scarred man unlocked the barred door to the boy’s cell. “Have you learned your lesson now, pretty thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil tensed as he saw Techno’s eyes suddenly glaze over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch him.” he warned. “He could hurt you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t, if he cares about his father.” the scarred man knelt before the pink haired teen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t reason when he’s like this!” Phil hissed. “Don’t touch him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure the promise of water and removing that awful muzzle should be reason enough.” The scarred man reached a hand out to Techno’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza could barely see what happened next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One minute the man had placed a hand on his son’s neck, the next he had been grabbed around the shoulders by Techno’s legs, slamming him hard to the ground as the boy scrambled to his feet, snarling as he flung himself against the end of the chain, thrashing and screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil saw the man quickly roll out of the cage, slamming the barred door shut as the boy continued to flail, his screams becoming choked the more he pulled against the chain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Phil could even attempt to calm the boy, his own cage was opened and he heard the sharp clicking of crossbows being aimed. He hissed as he saw the scarred man, wiping his face clean of a bit of blood, enter the cage, a dark smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to touch him.” Philza seethed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps a little longer without water then.” the man shrugged, eyeing where Techno had finally collapsed, gasping with exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you let me in his cell I can help him.” Phil offered, not for the sake of the scarred man. Never for him. But he couldn’t bear to see his son suffering for much longer! If there was just a way to get to him, to help him- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were broken as he felt the ropes on his wings suddenly release, falling to the floor as a shallow pain stung from his injured wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his heart drop as he saw a familiar knife within the scarred man’s hand, pressing against his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave you and your boys plenty of warning.” the man’s voice was laced with venom. “If you did anything stupid, they would pay for it. If they did anything, then it would be you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil flinched as he felt the knife scratch against his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly,” the scarred man chuckled. “Your boys didn’t get the message.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t fucking help it you bastard!” Phil heard Wilbur shout from his cage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scarred man sighed. “And, there goes the other one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the ground.” he snapped suddenly, pushing the knife downwards. “Wings out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza had no choice but to comply, his heart pounded as he gingerly lay prone against the floor, wings outstretched until their bleeding tips touched the edges of his cell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you fucking touch him!” he heard Wilbur shriek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wi-” Phil’s voice was cut short as he felt a gag slipped between his teeth. He bit down against the fabric, tearing at it until he felt the hands of the guards on the back of his neck and shoulders, pinning him to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the scarred man’s boot heel shove against the pressure point between his wings, sending a shock of pain through to his chest. He had barely drawn breath after the initial gasp when he felt the man’s hands latch around the base of his right wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His scream was muffled from the gag as the wing was wrenched from its socket with a sickening crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision went white as he felt the hands shift to his left wing, bending it at the second joint until it broke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything went black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he came to he felt as if he was dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wings, shattered and dislocated, had been tied back behind him once more. Throbbing with white hot pain at each shaky breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could barely shift himself from where he lay to see what had become of his boys. Wilbur was leaning against the bars of the cage, his hand reaching desperately towards Phil’s own, only inches away from his fingertips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took it, stifling a whimper from the movements, before risking a glance at Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy had tucked his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his mane of pink hair, mumbling quietly from behind the muzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil pressed his forehead against the back of Wilbur’s hand and closed his eyes, praying he’d still have the strength tomorrow for when this nightmare would end.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. “So, surrender to sleep at last." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur and Sally finally enact their escape plan, only for Wilbur to fall overboard in the storm.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: drowning, impalement, fake assault (Wilbur pretends to attack Sally, it was planned out and they were both in on but still, warning for if you need it.) </p>
<p>(Got another chapter done! Posted another chapter! It is now 2AM where I live and I may continue writing more tonight, or not, not sure, we'll see. Thanks again for reading today! I hope you have a wonderful day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Philza?” Wilbur whispered. “Phil?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only an hour before sunset and already the sky had gone dark. Just as Sally had predicted two days ago, the seas had begun to swell. The ship rocked and pitched, each motion gradually growing steeper as the wind outside began to scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur felt a knot growing in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Philza had hardly said a word after the beating he had received the day before. His once bright eyes were now dull and lifeless despite the reassuring smile he would give now and then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was weak, Wilbur knew. He’d been broken when his wings had been tortured. He wondered, if they weren’t attempting their escape now, would his father just let himself go? Waste away within the dark hull of the ship? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, he didn’t have time for those sorts of thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Philza?” he whispered once more into the darkness of the cage beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A calloused hand took his from between the bars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Wil.” Phil’s voice was so quiet it hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur swallowed back the knot in his throat, steeling himself. “You still up for the plan we discussed?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long moment of deafening silence. For a second, Wilbur thought his father had finally lost it, finally succumbed to the hopelessness that had been gnawing at him since his wings had been de-pinioned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pair of glittering eyes, blue and wrathful, flashed briefly in the dark as he felt Phil’s hand give his own a squeeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed in relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hell’s that for?” he heard Phil’s shaky chuckle, no doubt an attempt to mask the pain he was clearly suffering. “You thought I’d finally broken?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not in a million years.” Wilbur grinned, pain or no, at least Phil was still up for a fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just needed a nap is all.” he saw Phil wink, winding up one of the ropes that had bound his wings. He must have removed it after hearing Wilbur’s plan, he did still have use of his hands, being only shackled in front of him after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded at him before turning to Sally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready Wilby?” she flashed her needley teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s do this.” Wilbur cracked his knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally giggled, then leaned towards the barred door, flung her head back, and let out a blood curdling scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused, her golden eyes scanning the dark, before she bolted back towards Wilbur, continuing to scream for help as she dragged him down on top of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On cue, Wilbur pretended to grab at her face, swearing and cursing as the two mock fought, hoping it would be enough to fool whoever had now come below deck to check on the screams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fucking bitch!” Wilbur winced at his own words. “Fucking freak! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could see Sally trying not to break character, flailing her arms and stifling laughter between her screams as a guard finally arrived, slamming the door open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur rolled Sally towards the side of the cage nearest Phil, hoping the guard would try to break them up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The feint worked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No sooner had he felt the guard’s hands grab his waist, attempting to pry him off the girl, the hands suddenly released as a strangled gagging sound came from the assailant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur and Sally released one another, scrambling to their feet as Phil dragged the man from them, a rope cinched around the guard’s neck through the bars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking touch my son.” Wilbur heard Phil hiss before the guard suddenly made a strangled, choking noise and fell limp against the bars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately Wilbur was on the guard, rifling through his pockets until he found a set of keys, tossing them to Sally, who went to work on unlocking Philza’s cage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ship suddenly lurched beneath his feet and Wilbur tumbled hard to the floor, nearly slamming his head against the floorboards as he heard Sally’s signature chuckle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woo!” she laughed, helping undo the shackles on Phil’s wrists. “That was a big one!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like her.” Phil grinned at Wilbur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur cringed as he saw a knowing wink in his father’s eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut it!” he mouthed, clambering back to his feet as Sally began to work on the door to Techno’s cage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While the keys had managed to open the door, none of them seemed to work on the chains locking Techno to the wall, nor the iron muzzle around his mouth. Just as Wilbur was about to panic at the thought of having to abandon his brother, however, the pink haired boy made a motion towards the bolt that pinned the chains to the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Wilbur could guess what it was he had meant, he saw Sally wad up a piece of her dress, wrapping it in a spiral pattern around the bolt head, before giving it a hard tug. To his surprise, the bolt unscrewed from the wall enough to be removed the rest of the way by hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much they could do to free Techno from the shackles that kept his wrists behind his back, held there by a chain connected to a thick collar. But the boy didn’t seem to care, his eyes blazing with heated fury as he finally stepped free of his cage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur knew if any of them was capable of fighting with no hands, it was his brother. Now the only obstacle was getting onto the deck and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door burst open with a rush of blackened sea water, flooding the cabin. Wilbur was blinded. He flung his arms about, grabbing onto anything he could latch his hands onto. The wound in his throat stung as he finally surfaced, gasping, only to be hit once more with another wave of black water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything became a blur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly he was out of the water, on the deck, hearing voices screaming amidst the wind of the storm as rain water stung his face and neck. The next minute he was being slammed into a railing by a wash of water. He felt a clawed hand grip his wrist once, then slip. And then he was falling, only to crash into the freezing waters of the sea below. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to surface, but there was no surface. There was no up, no down, only endless black and a harsh roaring in his ears as he was sucked downwards, upwards, falling through the air once more as he was launched from the wave he had been grabbed by, then crashing back into the inky blackness of the sea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur tried to take a breath when he thought he was above the surface. His mouth filled with salt water. He swallowed, unable to cough it out, and gasped. Only this time, the water filled his lungs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He choked, seizing up as his body tried to expel the water. He felt something sharp slam hard into his side as a wave pummelled into his chest, knocking the water from his lungs before filling them back up once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt himself spasming, choking, his hands clawing at his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was drowning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was going to die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Wilbur stopped fighting. He felt his body go limp, his mind began to go numb as he felt an icy coldness spread from his chest and flood outwards. His eyes rolled back in his head as he let himself go, drifting along with the waves, letting them push and pull his limp form without struggle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he felt hands around his waist, he felt something dragging him upwards, he felt the sharp chill of the wind and dagger like rain against his face. He thought he heard a voice. He couldn't respond. Why couldn’t they just let him go? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands pressed him against a body, slamming the water from his lungs. And then again. And again. Then there were lips on his, breathing life back into his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur gasped, choking as the remaining seawater within him threatened to gag him once more. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, cold. Whoever held him was warm, burningly so. They were still in the water he realised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still in the storm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deep breath!” he heard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur obeyed, sucking in a breath as his rescuer dove down before a wave sucked them upwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was then he felt the pain in his side and ribs, burning as the sea water stung exposed, torn flesh. What the hell had he hit? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt himself surface once more and gasped for air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One more!” he felt his rescuer tighten their grip around his chest. “You gotta hold your breath for me! One more okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur sucked in another breath as he felt them plummet beneath the surface, the wave pushing them down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It went on like that for hours, he felt. They would surface, he would breath, they would dive, he would struggle to stay conscious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, after who knew how long, he felt something beneath his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the arms around his chest tighten once more as he was heaved ashore. Wilbur barely registered that he was even out of the water when they finally stopped. He heard a loud thump beside him as his rescuer collapsed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He joined them. Closing his eyes as the cold, the pain, the exhaustion, finally claimed him into the bliss of unconsciousness. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. "What a misery, keeping watch through the night, wide awake -- you’ll soon come up from under all your troubles.” -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno and Philza wash ashore on an island, things look grim.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: attempted CPR, hallucinations and hearing voices (pyschosis symptoms), dehydration, chains </p><p>(Not to worry, I got some sleep, we all good. Thank you for reading, I hope you all have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno slammed his foot against Phil’s chest until the man finally coughed, curling on his side as he gagged on the sea water he had inhaled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno heaved a sigh of relief, dropping to his knees and awkwardly grabbing the back of Phil’s coat with his hands, still chained behind him, as he began to drag his father up the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still dark, either from the storm or from it still being night, he couldn’t tell. But his eyes were well adjusted by now, to the point he could see a line of large rocks far past the high tide line. A few were even angled in such a way they could provide some form of shelter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shuffled on his knees, continuing to drag Phil’s limp form behind him, shivering as the wind plastered his soaked tunic and hair about him. The cold burrowing itself into his bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what seemed to be ages, they finally reached the shelter of the rocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno gently nudged Philza’s waterlogged wings beside the unconscious man, before collapsing against one of the rocks himself, eyeing the rise and fall of his father’s chest as he breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, biting back the tears that threatened to spill from them .</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost Wilbur…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost your brother…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hahahahaha!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!!!! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost him! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He slammed the sides of the muzzle against the rock, his screaming muffled from within the iron casement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d lost his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d lost him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d lost Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil had had him! Phil had grabbed his wrist! But then when they’d surfaced, he was gone! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno glared out at the blackened sea, the white froth that spat up upon the shore screamed at him. He screamed back. Muffled, but a scream nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The froth of the waves began to morph in his vision, taking the form of his brother being flung about, from wave to wave. Limp and lifeless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away, finally breaking into a sob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had closed his eyes a few times, but try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. Not with the voices screaming alongside the wind, not with the rocks around him twisting and melting within his mind, taking the shape of Wilbur’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed up, quietly waiting, with no more strength to cry, for the hallucinations and voices to fade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the storm outside the shelter began to dissipate, and the faint gleam of a golden sunrise burst through the darkened clouds, the hallucinations finally ceased. The voices quieted. They weren’t silent, they were never silent, but it was enough for Techno to finally listen to his surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gulls and gentle spray of the sea he expected. The curious chirps of an enderman, he did not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno froze, dropping his eyes quickly to the ground as he saw the long, grey legs swing slowly past his hiding place. Hallucination or no, he didn’t care. If it wasn’t, and he looked up, he’d be dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his utter dread, he saw the legs stop. For a long moment, he held his breath, hoping the creature would leave. He knew they wouldn’t attack, not outright, not unless he looked them in the eye. But this was not the time nor place to be risking that chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shhh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Run for it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stab the leg!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stab it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bite! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scream at it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s going to kill you! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look at its eyes! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look at its eyes! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shhhh! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief washed over him as the being chittered once, then began to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally relaxed as he heard its slow footsteps fade into the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His relief was short lived as he heard Philza wince beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Tech…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nudged his father’s arm with a knee. The motion felt awkward but with his arms still chained and his mouth locked shut, there wasn’t much else he could do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil coughed, weakly trying to rise, only to collapse back against the sand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Tech….” his voice was raspy. “...Techno...I can’t...I can’t…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes rolled back in his head as he fell unconscious once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nudged him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil made no response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only indication he even lived was the faint rasp of his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno couldn’t even cry, his tears were gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So thirsty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So sore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just die already! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crush his throat! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Put him out of his misery! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go drown! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drown like Wilbur! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drown yourself! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go die! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno slammed the muzzle once more against the rock beside him. Repeating the motion until his head rang and his cheek was bleeding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices continued, though they were no longer telling him to die. Oddly, they were asking him to stop? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped his head around as he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He heard a startled yelp as a woman leapt back from him, arms held up as a sign of peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stop that.” her white, glowing eyes narrowed. “You’re just hurting yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked. He had to be hallucinating again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman before him had a set of white horns and glowing white eyes, framed between locks of icy hair. Behind her, he noticed, were more women. Though, more human looking than her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sam.” the woman knelt beside him, holding her hands out towards the muzzle. “I’m the head of the infirmary on this island, can I please assist you and your friend?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno flattened his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This whole scenario was too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First the kidnapping. Then Phil...the storm...Wilbur...now this…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, then slumped against the rock and closed his eyes, letting Sam work at removing the muzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how she managed it, but soon enough, the iron casing had grown cold, and then shattered away from his mouth. The collar and chains on his arms followed shortly after, breaking away like thin sheets of ice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno winced, rubbing the soreness from his wrists and neck, flinching reflexively as he felt a piece of gauze placed over his injured cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally opened his eyes, swallowing a snarl as he saw Sam’s hands running across Phil’s broken frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell are you doing?!” he hissed, hackles bristling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Checking for broken bones.” Sam seemed unfazed by the threat. “You didn’t have any, and aside from being dehydrated and bruised, I’d say you’re otherwise alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled gently at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he your friend?” she placed a hand on Phil’s forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father.” Techno hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam seemed to ponder for a moment, no doubt noticing the obvious differences between her patients. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’s very proud of you.” She smiled once more before motioning a few of the women at the mouth of the rocky cave to enter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno.” Techno eyed the other women warily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your father?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stiffened. Phil’s name was not often received with kindness, should he lie?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam seemed to take note of his hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re worried about whether we’d turn him in to any authorities,” she waved a hand. “I can assure you he will be fine. We don’t have the same prejudices as those on the mainland.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt within the back of his mind that the woman was telling the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philza.” he said. “Or Phil. Either one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has he had the Blood Fever?” Sam asked, brushing a lock of her hair aside as she gently lifted Phil’s arm around her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Techno nodded. “Five years ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Sam’s eyes seemed to darken as another woman took Phil’s other arm, the two hoisting him up and carefully carrying him from the shelter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno followed, swaying slightly on his feet. He hadn’t realised how dizzy he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods his throat was so dry! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light of the sunrise hit him like a punch to the face. Techno cringed, covering his eyes with his hands, only to feel his knees buckle beneath him as he collapsed, exhaustion finally taking him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. “And now, tell me and tell me true. Where have you been wandering..." -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno awakes to an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar land. At least the demon woman seems nice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: references to past chapter's torture, mention of injuries and fever. </p><p>(This chapter is mostly chill, just Techno realising he's a new place and enjoying some good BREAD! What do you all think of Samantha -the fridge- so far? Thank you all for reading today, I won't stay up too late writing. Maybe. Have a good day! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span> Golden sunlight washed across Techno’s face. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes, slowly dragging himself upright as he took in his surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no idea where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting on a bed, sheets white and thin and a knitted blanket thrown atop. The room was small, but cozy. A large window to his left let in a wide stream of warm sunlight. Outside he could see the redbrick rooftops of neighbouring buildings, and far off in the distance the white and blue lines of the sea washed up onto the golden sand of the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his right was a small side table, a large glass of water set atop it and a still warm pot of tea. The scent of rose and honey drifted up from the steam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno cautiously sniffed at the glass of water. Not sensing anything off with it, he gratefully guzzled it down -gods he didn’t realise how thirsty he was!- letting the cool liquid sooth his dry throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After taking a moment to let the water settle within his stomach, he poured himself a mug of the tea, holding it to his chest as he inhaled the soft rosy scent that drifted up to his nose. He sighed, feeling the aches in his chest and shoulders from the previous days begin to fade a bit. The rose scent was a godsend after the days of the metallic taste and smell of the muzzle and the salty brine of the sea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then he realised his clothes had been changed out. The once water logged and salt ridden tunic and trousers had been replaced by a simple, white linen shift….was he wearing a nightgown? For that matter, who had changed his clothes?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god did they even offer him any spares- he spied a folded set of pants and a tunic on the foot of the bed and sighed in relief, whoever had taken him here had at least been considerate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gingerly, he stood, clambering out of the shift and replacing it with the familiar comfort of the trousers and tunic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were surprisingly soft, whatever fabric they had been made from was woven with such a fine weave, he nearly lost himself running his fingers across the sleeves. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smooth…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Soft…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So soft…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Comf!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Soft…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nice fabric…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Need more….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So soft…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears twitched as he heard a gentle knock on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno?” the familiar voice of Sam drifted into the room. “May I come in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, then mentally smacked himself, she couldn’t see him nod! He’d been so used to the muzzle these past few days- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, he needed to stop thinking about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” he settled on, sitting back on the bed once more as Sam entered, carrying a small tray of bread and dried fruits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, her milky white eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, though she didn’t look directly at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno decided he liked her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” she set the tray down beside him. “I noticed you had some more bruises than I initially thought, are they sore at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.” Techno’s eyes drifted towards the bread, it looked wonderfully golden. Still steaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your cheek?” Sam asked. “I changed the gauze on it this morning, it’s stopped bleeding and doesn’t look infected, how does it feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s hand lightly brushed against the wound, it stung a bit but was otherwise alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s okay.” he shrugged, his mouth began to water at the sight of the steam rising from the bread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to help yourself.” Sam chuckled. Her laugh was crystalline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno tried to restrain himself, taking only a small piece of the bread to nibble on. Only to wolf down the loaf as the warm, savoury texture touched his tongue. His stomach ached with hunger, he hadn’t eaten for nearly three days after all, and he felt a bit sad that he had eaten so fast. He hadn’t even gotten a good idea of the taste, only that it was good, and now the loaf was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re more than welcome to help yourself to the kitchen.” Sam gestured towards the door. “Second floor down, first door on the right. The girls have been informed of your presence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philza told me about your needs as well.” she nodded. “I’ve informed the staff, just let us know if there is anything else you would require for-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s ears flicked up. “Phil?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is he?” he asked. “Is he okay? Where is he?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s asleep at the moment.” Sam explained. “He hasn’t been very lucid for long, he’s still weak from your ordeals.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a twinge of guilt, Techno remembered having to kick the man’s chest to get him to breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to...I think I may have broken his ribs.” he mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt your father…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Killed him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Broken…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Sam nodded. “Chest compressions?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno flinched. “More or less. I didn’t have use of my hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did what you had to.” the woman reassured him. “And yes, that is the main concern I have for him at the moment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno cringed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His breastbone is broken,” she explained. “It will heal, not to worry. But in the meantime I need to keep a close eye on him. You did say he had the Blood Fever some five years ago. That plus he will be having difficulty coughing for some time means he’s at high risk of a lung infection.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Techno mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be.” Sam shook her head. “You did everything right, considering the situation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I see him?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d actually prefer if you did.” Sam made a motion to follow her out the door. “Being around loved ones is always good for healing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno wasn’t sure how to feel at the sight of Philza, unconscious on his side, in the adjacent room. Thick bandages had been wrapped about his chest and wrists, a splint had been placed on his broken wing, sprawled out behind him on the bed. The wing that had been dislocated was bound tightly as if in a sling. A faint sheen of sweat glazed his forehead and his breathing was ragged and weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You-you said he was awake earlier?” Techno took a seat beside his father, taking his hand in his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For awhile.” Sam nodded, placing a hand on Phil’s forehead. “I don’t think he realised where he was, he fought me for a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno smirked. “Well at least he’s strong enough to put up a protest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind,” Sam took a seat beside him. “May I ask what happened to him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno flinched as the voices hissed at the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scarred man hurt him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Criminal dad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanted man…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Torture…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Make him pay! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill the man! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone captured us.” he steadied his breaths. “I don’t know who. They wanted to cash in on a bounty he had I guess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno gripped the ends of his hair, tugging repetitively on them as he tried to quiet the memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil...they didn’t want him escaping…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry.” he heard Sam’s voice, still calm and soothing, but laced with a hint of malice. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are both welcome to stay here for as long as you need.” she continued. “We don’t normally allow men to stay for long on our island but I believe your case deserves an exception.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did she mean by that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Techno repeated his thoughts aloud. “What is this place?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam folded her robes about herself, the shimmering blue of the cloth reflecting the icy silver of her hair. She sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have taken an oath to not tell outsiders any more than the bare minimum.” she explained. “But, for now, I will say that this place is a sanctuary of the old world and a safe haven for those who are persecuted by the new.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made absolutely no sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Techno wasn’t about to question it. Not when he and Philza were at the mercy of this woman and the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hiding secrets…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t we all…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Secrets…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Burn the house…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tells the truth…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She is nice…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trust her…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lies! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trust…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that’ll have to do for now.” he nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a sudden gnawing in his stomach. The bread from earlier must have reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said the kitchen is downstairs?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gestured towards the door. “You are welcome to help yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno gave Phil’s hand a squeeze, then left, tugging at the edges of his hair as he padded barefoot along the wooden hallway of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of warm bread and cinnamon sugar floated up the stairs.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. "Tell me what’s on your mind. I’m eager to do it, whatever I can do . . . whatever can be done.” - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza wakes to a demon and depression.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: references to injuries, ptsd flashbacks, realisation of losing a loved one, some mild flirting. </p><p>(So I'm writing more chapters further on for this and my god, I think I'm in love with this dynamic. <br/>Thanks for reading again today, hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza’s eyes fluttered open. He weakly glanced about, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he recalled was water filling his lungs as his waterlogged wings were sucked down into the depths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered as he remembered the pressure building around his ears before everything had gone black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched as he felt a chill hand touch his forehead, a soft voice asking “Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil blinked, eyeing the woman before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was….was he dead? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Backlit by the golden light of the window, the woman, with milky white eyes and horns, smiled gently at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...am I dead?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman chuckled, her voice was chilled but pleasant. Like a soft flurry of snow on a winter’s day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asked. “Are you worried you’ve gone to hell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A demon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He realised at her joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of one wasn’t so rare as to be considered a myth, but it was still rare enough to be surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if this is hell,” he grinned. “Maybe it’s a good thing I died?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman laughed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not dead.” she insisted. “If you were, I’d be very disappointed in my abilities.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though I will say,” the woman brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “If you’re delirious enough to flirt, I think you might need a bit longer to rest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil closed his eyes, letting himself fall limp at her touch. She was right, he realised. His head was still spinning, his limbs still shaky. He should sleep. He should sleep and just...drift off…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to protect his sons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to find them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where were they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh gods! What had happened to them?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bolted upright, doubling over as a sharp pain shot through his chest, snarling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where am I?!” he hissed, fighting back the tears of pain as he flared his wings. “Where’s my sons?! Who are you?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman before him merely blinked, slowly, and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re safe. Techno is downstairs, he visited you earlier.” she crossed her arms. “Now lie down before I have to make you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza’s eyes darted about the room, there didn’t seem to be any locks on the door, the window was flung wide open, he certainly wasn’t being held here against his will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How-how did…” he slowly dropped back to the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We found you and your son yesterday morning.” the woman explained. “You’d washed ashore in the storm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her expression softened a bit. “You should be proud, your son saved your life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tech?” Phil winced, his chest hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were awake for a bit earlier, you told me his name.” the woman nodded. “As well as your own, Philza.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sam.” she said. “Samantha Sung, head doctor of the infirmary and curator of this building’s library.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...library?” Phil finally felt himself relax. This Sam didn’t seem to be hiding anything, she certainly didn’t seem threatening. “Where am I exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled softly. “Well, I could tell you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?” Phil raised an eyebrow. “Then you’d have to kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then I would have to keep you.” Sam chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I jest!” she waved her hand. “But I still can’t tell you, I’ve taken a solemn oath to keep this place and its inhabitants a secret.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like, provided you do not know the name or purpose of our island.” Sam explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A library? On an island?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Phil could swear he had heard of such a place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, suddenly realising where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Themiscyra.” he stated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam seemed to recoil, startled, before shushing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?!” she stammered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like my books.” Phil shrugged. “I know things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam glared at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Typical.” she hissed. “Typical of a witch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil laughed. “Is it that obvious?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Conniving schemers!” Sam huffed, crossing her arms. “I should have left you on that beach.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you have against witches?” Phil grinned. He had to admit, it was just a bit too fun to see this Sam, once calm and collected, suddenly flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s milky eyes darkened to a sudden grey. “A witch summoned me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Phil sighed. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” he apologised. “I swear, I’ve never summoned a demon before, nor do I have any plans to do so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the cruelty of the summoning process, and killing children wasn’t anywhere on his agenda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was only half successful.” Sam made a gesture to her milky white eyes. “Thankfully I  retained my freedom. Still, my experiences are less than pleasant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although,” that gentle smile of hers returned. “I wouldn’t mind giving your kind a second chance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt you’d be capable of something that cruel,” she stood. “Not after seeing how your son cares for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil chuckled. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, a threat?” Sam laughed. “From the waterlogged bird I found washed ashore?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How terrifying.” she grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil chuckled. Only to seize up as a horrid thought suddenly struck him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said Techno was here, right?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Sam tilted her head. “Is something wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was there another?” Phil asked, feeling a horrible sinking sensation in his chest. “Another boy? Same age as Techno, eighteen, tall, brunette, brown eyes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The confusion on Sam’s face answered him. Still, he pressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He-he was wearing a yellow sweater.” He stammered. “His name is Wilbur, he sings, he’s human, he’s...he’s…” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dead.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The thought hit him like a cinder block. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut, curling up on his side, remembering the storm’s events. He’d had his hand! He’d had him! He’d held his wrist before they...before they had been hit by a wave…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the sensation of his claws digging into his son’s wrist, tearing the skin as he was pulled away from him by the sea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sobbed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. “Her gifts were mixed with good and evil both.” - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur has a very miserable time when he wakes up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: references to drowning, blood, references to impalement, dry heaving/vomiting, dehydration </p>
<p>(Another chapter written another chapter posted. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur coughed, then gagged as he tasted the salty water being expelled from his lungs, the dark memory of drowning churned his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled onto his hands and knees, continuing to heave, spitting out strings of saliva and sand. After a long moment of kneeling there, hands curling against his stomach as his head rested against the sandy ground, he finally tried to sit up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was on a beach, under a large pine tree near the shoreline. His pants clung to his legs, dried and crusted with salt and sand. He cringed at the sensation as he tried to stand, slowly so as not to puke, gods he felt so gross! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave up trying to stand as another wave of nausea hit and he instead settled on sitting back against the pine tree, steadying his vision as it swam about sickeningly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lolled his head over to the voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally’s needley teeth grinned at him. She was wearing his sweater. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow, realising his chest was bare, save for a series of torn fabric strips criss-crossing his lower ribcage and abdomen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you-” he coughed, still tasting the awful dryness of the salt water in his throat. “Why do you have my sweater?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cause I sacrificed my dress to keep you from bleeding out, dumbass.” Sally pulled the sweater over her knees. It was horrendously baggy on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur would die before he admitted it looked cute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shivered, then winced as he tried to hug his arms about his chest, the movement tugging at a spot near his side that began to throb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got impaled on some coral.” Sally scooted next to him. “I took it out of you. Wanna see?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh no-” Wilbur was cut off as Sally held up a chunk of boney white substance, still brown with his dried blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ew what the fuck?!” he cringed. “I don’t need to see that!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was in you pretty deep,” Sally ignored him, pointing at the edge of the brown line. “You’re lucky it missed most of your organs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most?!” Wilbur froze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Sally shrugged. “I think most. I didn’t see anything immediately messed up but seeing as you’re awake and not dead, I think you’ll probably be ok.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think?!” Wilbur blinked. “Thought you knew first aid?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First aid yes,” Sally nodded. “Not a doctor though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“....great.” Wilbur rubbed his face, his skin was dry with salt and sand. It itched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was high in the sky by now, he noted. The screaming of the sea birds and soft crash of the waves was a harsh contrast to the terror of last night...was it last night? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long was I out?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A good twenty four hours I’d say.” Sally twirled the chunk of coral within her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any sign of anyone else?” he swallowed, his throat was so dry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped Philza and Techno were alright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had to be, he shook his head. They were too tough to die from a storm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Washing up with us?” Sally shook her head. “No. I did a perimeter walk around the island this morning. Couldn’t find anyone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur felt his heart sink. What if...what if Philza and Techno...what if they hadn’t made it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he felt Sally’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re ok.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, if only to make himself feel more at ease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If anyone could survive that,” he said. “It’s them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How had </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> survived though? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The memories of the storm began to wash through him. The darkness, the cold, the frigid waters filling his lungs as he was knocked about. The water being expelled, arms around his chest, lips against his own, air being pushed back into his lungs- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flushed, slowly realising what must have happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sally, did you-did…” he stammered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I what?” she narrowed her eyes, shuffling the sweater over her toes until she was practically cocooned within it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you-” he clapped a hand over his mouth as he felt another rush of nausea, doubling over as he gagged on more seawater, still within his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d save that thought for later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long moment of dry heaving, occasionally coughing up more of the brackish water, Sally holding his hair back, Wilbur finally curled up on his side, coughing. He felt so dizzy, so thirsty, so nauseous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should get out of the sun.” he felt Sally’s hand rubbing his back reassuringly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think you can walk?” she asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or should I carry you?” she flashed him a grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can walk.” Wilbur shakily stood, leaning heavily on the pine tree. “Just...just dizzy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t bother to protest as he felt Sally wrap his arm across her shoulder, instead he relented to leaning against her as they made their way further into the island. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you walked the perimeter?” he asked as they entered a thin forest. Young saplings and a few older trees dotted the grassy ground, creating a dappled, patchy series of shadows and sunlight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, this place isn’t that big.” Sally recounted. “There’s a little spring near the centre of the island, couple big boulders near it. We could probably drag some wreckage up there and make a shelter at some point.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably sooner rather than later,” she noted. “You’re burning.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunburn or fever?” Wilbur chuckled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Both.” Sally finally set him down against a tree as they neared the centre of the island. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay there for a bit,” she ordered. “I’ll go see about getting something to carry the water in.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded groggily, slumping against the tree. Water sounded nice. Cold, fresh water. He was so thirsty….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” he felt a hand lightly patting his cheek. “Don’t be falling asleep on me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Wilbur slurred, blinking his eyes back open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked again, had it gotten a bit darker? Or was that just the shade he was sitting under? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Sally held up a large folded leaf, cradling a handful of water within its bowled up shape. “Couldn’t find a bowl, and the spring is pretty much just a bubbly puddle, can’t exactly drink from that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur carefully took the leaf, sipping at the water. Gods it was wonderful! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure it was slightly lukewarm from having been in Sally’s hands for awhile, but anything that wasn’t the same, salty, bitter taste that plagued his dried throat was heaven at this point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well shit.” Sally sighed. “We’re gonna need a bigger bowl than that if that’s how you drink.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t be.” the girl’s golden eyes flashed playfully. “Think you’re up for giving me a hand in trying to set up a campsite?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “If you’ll keep paying me in water, I think I could manage.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is the most pathetic wage I’ve ever heard of.” Sally chuckled. “So long as you don’t go forming a union demanding things other than water, I think we can work this out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal.” Wilbur grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the day he spent slowly wandering about the island, dragging bits of wreckage towards the centre where they planned to make camp, tying together a little shelter. Occasionally having to lean against a nearby tree as the world tried to swim before his eyes whenever he was struck with another bout of nausea. Luckily, with a bit of water and some determination, the dizziness never lasted long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time night fell, the two had made themselves a small hut near the spring. Wilbur had lit a fire by the entrance while Sally gutted and prepared a small fish she had caught in the tidepools on the beach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, Wilbur thought as he picked at the roasted flesh of the charred fish. He eyed Sally as she picked her needle teeth clean with a fish bone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem to have done this before.” he finally stated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” her golden eyes gave him a confused glance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surviving in the wilderness deal.” he gestured at the hut surrounding them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah.” she returned to picking her teeth, damn they were much larger than he had initially thought they were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom taught me some things, dad taught me some others.” she shrugged, then snapped the fish bone in half, swallowing it. “Most I learned on my own.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned. “Been just wandering from place to place you know? Gotta know a few things about surviving out in the middle of nowhere ey?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Been doing some of that myself.” Wilbur returned the grin. “Phil never settles in one spot for long so we’re always on the move.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are the odds two drifters like us found each other?” Sally laughed, then paused, staring at the small fire. The flames glittered within her golden eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever get tired of it?” she asked. “The wandering? Not knowing where you’ll sleep for the night?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed. “Sometimes yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess it would be nice to have some place to drop anchor now and then at least.” he admitted. “Not really settle per say, but, I dunno.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a deserted island.” Sally gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Could drop anchor here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfft!” Wilbur snorted. “I barely know you and you’re suggesting we just live together here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You dumbass!” Sally laughed, slapping at his shoulder. “You know that’s not at all what I meant!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes suddenly narrowed wickedly as she leaned close to his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur felt that awful flush in his face returning as he felt her breath against his cheek. The sudden memory of her lips on his, breathing life back into his chest, began to replay in his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as quickly as she had made the unspoken suggestion, Sally pulled away, laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow you jump to conclusions quickly!” she giggled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur scowled, shoving her back. “Please don’t do that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away from her, returning to picking at his fish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh…” he heard her voice drop slightly. “I’m, I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we’re gonna get through this,” Wilbur steadied his voice. “We can’t play around like that. Okay? That shit hurts you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” he felt Sally’s hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know, I’ll stop okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Wilbur sighed, she seemed genuine. A part of him felt bad for snapping at her like that, she was just teasing, and it wasn’t as if he was exactly against it either…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He told himself. He couldn’t be tempting those thoughts, not like this, not now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, perhaps later, if they survived this… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I snapped at you.” he said quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apology accepted.” he heard Sally toss the rest of the fish bones in the fire. “How’s your coral wound?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur tossed his own fish bones into the fire, he hadn’t actually noticed the wound bothering him for most of the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s, kinda numb?” he poked at the makeshift bandages around his side. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…” Sally gave the wound a small prod. “To be honest I’m not sure either. Maybe you had a nerve severed or something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “At least you’re not feverish anymore, that was probably just the dehydration.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Wilbur halfheartedly agreed, a faint bit of dread beginning to creep up within him. What if...what if there was something wrong? Something very wrong that he just couldn’t feel? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, should probably just get some rest and we’ll figure things out in the morning.” Sally curled up beside him, tucking her knees to her chest within the sweater, cocooning herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur joined her, pressing his back against hers for warmth, staring into the fire as the embers began to flicker at the corners of his visions. Soon enough, he had drifted off into the world of sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he woke, however, he felt as if he was in hell. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. “Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.” - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno has a startling meet-cute with his rescuer.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: a butter knife is waved around but no one gets hurt. </p><p>(I feel like this chapter is rather weak, I hate it. It gets better but I hate this one. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno watched Sam drifting past the kitchen and towards the stairs, carrying a tray of fresh tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had heard of the existence of demons before, half demons to be exact, but he had never seen one. Philza had explained to him that summoning one was forbidden by his coven, to do so would sentence one to death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know the exact details required to summon, Phil had always refused to tell him, but he knew how the summon worked in a sense. If done correctly, a full demon would be stripped from the netherworld and take over the body of a sacrificial being in the form the summoner chose, fully subservient to their wishes. Unless, said demon was too powerful to be contained by the summoner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If done incorrectly, however, only half of the demon would be brought into this world. Still taking on the form of the summoner’s vision, but not fully possessing the sacrifice. And certainly not subservient to the summoner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though not nearly as powerful as they would have been in the netherworld, a demon was still a demon, even if only half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam intrigued him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew from his talks with Phil, and from what she herself had divulged to him, that she had no memory of her life before summoning. That part of her had been left in the netherrealm. And, as she put it, she preferred it stayed that way. She had expressed her contentment with her life on the island, preferring to help its inhabitants and learn about the old world rather than do as her summoner had demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered she had said with a smirk, “I made sure they would never ask a favour of me ever again.” He didn’t ask what she had done to her summoner. But he gathered it was permanent and unpleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made nice tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a sip from the mug she had given him before she had left the kitchen. It was rose once more, with a hint of yarrow and thyme. The symbolism was not lost on him, he grinned as he glanced back at the stairs once more. Nor was the irony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had read about yarrow being used a repellant for demons, thyme as a gift of affection. Just what exactly was Sam meaning by that tea? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno grinned wickedly. If Phil didn’t catch on, he’d be very disappointed in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A curious chittering echoed through his mind, breaking him from his thoughts. It sounded familiar…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. It was another hallucination, he was sure of it. The stress of the past few days had worn on his mind enough that episodes came and went as sudden and often as one would breath. He hated it, but there wasn’t much he could do aside from wait them out. Repeating rhymes to himself helped, as did tapping out a tune with his claws. It wasn’t perfect, but he managed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored the chittering noise as he heard it pass behind him, sipping the tea as he stared out the kitchen window. A few of the cooks bustled past him, giggling about something he didn’t bother to hear, giving him a slight wave as they noticed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stiffened a bit, unsure exactly of how to respond. He was never good with friendly gestures from strangers. He settled on mimicking the women before awkwardly turning back to his tea, ignoring the tittering the girl’s made behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was another thing that confused him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t seen any men so far. It was all women. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it was a bad thing, he could care less. He just didn’t understand it, he’d never been in a place without other men around before. He’d never even heard of a place populated only by women. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt...different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wrong, just different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was being completely honest with himself, however, he actually rather liked it. Most men he had met either reacted violently towards him, or disgusted. Sometimes both. Sometimes they were worse, trying to flirt or place a hand on him, commenting on his “pretty looks” being wasted on a man like him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Women had always been indifferent towards his appearance, if they weren’t immediately thrown off by his hybrid features. Indifferent, or charmed, he noted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always nice when they were charmed, he grinned to himself. It was cute, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted once more as a dark shadow crossed the corner of his eye, followed by a faint chittering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno leapt onto the table, butter knife in hand, at the sight of the enderman within the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was real, right? Was it real this time? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stab it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stab! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Run away!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Coward!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stab it! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fight!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fight!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fight!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood for the-</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hey Lucy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked, his ears twitching as a cook walked up to the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno dear, please get down from there.” the cook scolded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautiously, confusedly, Techno lowered the blade as he clambered down to the floor. He blinked a few times, staring at the tall, grey skinned creature the cook had referred to as “Lucy”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He...that was just another person, right? He was hallucinating it being an enderman, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enderman was crouched so as to avoid bumping its head against the ceiling, its grey skin glittering with patches of purple in the sunlight, a mane of black, wavy hair flowed down from its head and neck. A simple shift was tied about its torso. Oddest of all, was the blindfold around its eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enderman was still there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear,” he felt a firm hand push his own to the table. “Please put the knife down, you’re scaring Lucy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped the knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I think I’m having a…” he stammered. “I think I’m hallucinating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what was worse. If the hallucination was just incredibly vivid and lasting far longer than it normally should, or if there really was an enderman in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” the cook sighed. “No Lucy is real. You’re not hallucinating, please sit down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno had no choice but to comply, dropping to the bench beside the table, baffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ender- Lucy, took a few steps back, before bolting out of the kitchen. A pitiful chirp followed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor thing.” the cook tskd. “She’s so shy, it’s a wonder she actually bothered to come in today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shy?” Techno mumbled, still stunned. “You mean tame, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could sense the cook glaring at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, shy.” the woman hissed. “And if you hurt her, young man, you will have an island of women hunting you till the ends of time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shuddered. He had no doubt the cook’s words were true. He no longer had any doubt of what he had just seen either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be thanking her you know.” the cook strode away. “She was the one who found you on the beach.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden memory of the near encounter two days ago burst into Techno’s mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was how Sam had found them?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He buried his face in his hands, too confused to think anymore. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. "Much have I suffered, laboured long and hard by now in the waves and wars. " - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza is hit with the big sad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: References to past torture, PTSD flashbacks, situational depression, mourning, Sadza </p><p>Yall get some wing preening, as a treat. </p><p>(Internet cut out for a couple hours so I wasn't able to upload anything for a bit but here's the next chapter! Thank you all for reading, I hope you have a good day today! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Phil stared sorrowfully into the golden tea, swirling within the mug. He couldn’t bring himself to drink it. The last few days had eaten at him to the point it was growing difficult to even drink anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wanted to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep and not feel anything. No more pain, no more regret, just dreams and rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a chilled hand touch his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to drink something Philza.” Sam’s voice, firm but gentle, ordered him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally relented, sipping at the edge of the tea. He couldn’t taste it. There was no taste anymore, only the thick, sickening flavour of salt still within his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have drowned.” he said quietly. “I should have put Techno onto that piece of wreckage and then let myself drown.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Sam’s hand grip his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that!” she sat down on the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I won’t be hearing that from you, not after all you’ve been through.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the point?” Phil slumped against her. “I failed them. I failed my boys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved Techno.” he felt her hand stroke his hair. “You survived hell and you managed to save your son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not both of them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know that.” Sam pulled him close. “You don’t know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, leaning into her embrace. He didn’t care that he barely knew her, he didn’t care her actions were probably nothing more than bedside manners. It was comforting. And that was all he wanted now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get my hopes up.” he said quietly. “Please don’t get my hopes up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect to hear a heartbeat from her. Not that he had assumed that demons had biology any different than the average humanoid, but still, it was an odd sensation to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was something at least, knowing that the being holding him was just as flesh and blood as he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve asked around,” he felt her continue to comb her fingers through his hair. “A few search parties have been sent out to check the rest of the island. Some are organising to look at some of the surrounding islands-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil buried his face in her shoulder, drowning out her voice as he choked back his tears. He didn’t want to hear the options, he didn’t want to hear the possibilities that he might be wrong about his assumptions, he didn’t want to have his hopes raised, only for them to be dashed as he was proven right. That Wilbur was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed that way for a long moment, his face buried in her shoulder, hiding his tears. Her gentle hands stroking his hair and neck, uttering soft reassurances to him, before he finally pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he rubbed his eyes, before taking a breath, sighing heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...ugh.” he chuckled, blowing a bit of hair from his eyes with a puff of air. “Gods I hate this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no need to apologise.” he felt Sam’s hand on the back of his neck, lightly thumbing through his hairline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” Phil rubbed his eyes again. “I bet you don’t get many patients that have a complete breakdown in front of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have, quite a few times actually.” Sam shifted beside him, drawing her legs up onto the bed. “None as utterly apologetic about it as you, however.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry-” Phil froze. “Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point stands.” Sam grinned at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On another note,” she asked. “How do you find the tea?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza took another hesitant sip of the brew, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t taste anything.” he set the mug down on the bedside table. “I think that’s just me though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable.” Sam nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s still my usual brew, rose tea.” she explained. “Though I did add some yarrow in it for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil coughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yarrow? Wasn’t that a demon repellent? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t it also-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still a bit feverish,” Sam explained. “The yarrow should help calm that, if you can stomach it that is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lack of taste doesn’t mean I hate it.” Phil took the mug once more, as if to prove a point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you worried about being burnt?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam chuckled, her milky eyes twinkling. “If I was worried about every little herb that could burn or repel me, I wouldn’t have become a doctor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Phil felt a slight flush beginning to grow on the tips of his ears. He quickly stifled the feeling. The hell was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hurt yourself for my sake.” he finished the tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh it takes a lot more than some crushed up herbs to hurt me.” Sam laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About which,” her face grew stoic once more. “How are you feeling? Physically?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil took a moment to assess himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was being honest, he still felt pretty terrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest ached, his wrists were still sore, his head felt heavy and he was constantly dizzy. No doubt from the sheer amount of sea water he had inhaled days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wings-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh gods, his wings! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Phil was no longer in the room with Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief second, he was strung up on the ship, as hands grabbed at his feathers, tearing at them, mangling them, mutilating-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philza?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was brought back by the chilled hands of Sam on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…I just...” he stammered, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Still sore.” he settled on, swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Sam gave his hands a light squeeze. “Would you mind if I had a look at your wings?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza recoiled at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want anything touching his wings. Not now. Not ever again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to even let them lie on the bed beside him, every little motion or change in pressure jogged their already bruised and traumatised skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t even preen them they hurt so much!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philza.” he looked back up at Sam, her milky eyes soft with concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand what you’ve been through was terrible, no one should ever have to go through what you did.” she patted his hands. “And while I can assure you, that man will rot in hell, I still need to help you take care of yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” she assured him. “And if it hurts at all, just let me know. Alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did need help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gingerly lay back on his side, allowing Sam to gently extend his wings from their bindings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut against the pain that began to spread from his wings and chest at the movement, trying to force the memory of the scarred man’s touch out of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched as he felt Sam’s hand on his wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright.” she crooned. “You’re doing so well, it’s alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her chilled fingers began to comb gently through the feathers, picking out the scabs and dried blood, meticulously fluffing and smoothing each pinion. Lightly massaging the stiffened, bruised muscles beneath the skin, carefully avoiding the broken bones and sore sockets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil buried his face into a pillow, muffling his whimpers of pain, though he still heard Sam’s apologies whenever she passed by a sensitive spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some time, however, he noticed the pain beginning to lessen, being replaced by soothing coolness. For the first time since he had lost his feathers, Phil felt himself begin to relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sank into the bed beneath him as the pain seeped away from his aching wings, replaced by the gentle coolness of Sam’s touch. He fell limp as he felt her hand lightly knead against the pressure point where his wings connected to his back. His mind faded into nothingness as he fell asleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. "A decent boldness ever meets with friends." -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur has pneumonia. He does not appreciate. <br/>Sally has DIRT. Bowls are made.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: references to impalement and drowning, pneumonia, dick jokes aplenty. </p><p>(I feel like this is another weak chapter, I'm not too good at comedy. I try but it feels so flat. But that thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why-” Wilbur coughed. “Why does-does it start to hurt now?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had woken shortly after sunrise, having rolled over in his sleep onto his wound, which immediately flared up in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because bodies are stupid.” Sally huffed, stroking his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been long since the two had woken, Wilbur would have been impressed if she had slept through his scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-what are we-” Wilbur choked. “What do we do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was in this much pain, how would he be able to help with trying to get off the island? How would help with surviving? Could he help? Would he just be stuck being infirm this whole time? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to think about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he felt Sally’s fingers card through his hair. “I mean, we’ve got a shelter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got water,” she continued to list. “And I know how to fish so at the moment, I think we’ll be okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best thing you can do for yourself is just rest.” he felt her shift beside him as she stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where-where are you-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna search around for some clay deposits.” she explained. “If we can get a fire going I think we can make up some bowls for brewing teas and salves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her wink. “Maybe a nice big jug so you can drink your weight’s worth of water.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur grinned weakly at the terrible joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be long.” Sally gave him a wave, tugging the hem of the sweater down over her thighs. “You just rest up for now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have much of a choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement, even breathing, sent a stabbing pain through his side and ribs. He glared at the chunk of coral Sally had kept, sitting near the coals of last night’s fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick.” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m naming you Jared.” he poked weakly at the end of the coral structure that had impaled him. “Fuck you, Jared. Fucking piece of shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coral said nothing in reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it was coral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it couldn’t talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or have any sentience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if it did, then there would be much more concerning matters to worry about, Wilbur thought. Why had Sally bothered saving that stupid thing anyhow? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent that day in relative silence, drifting in and out of consciousness. Occasionally woken by Sally pressing a water filled leaf to his lips, reminding him to drink before she wandered off again into the island. When she wasn’t there, he spent his time trying to practice what Phil had taught him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He counted his breaths, slowly breathing in and out, feeling the air moving within his lungs as oxygen flooded his exhausted frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took note of the way the dirt felt against his back. The way his dried, salt encrusted pants crinkled about his legs. The coolness of the shade he lay under in contrast to the otherwise warm air about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt where his bones connected at the joints, where his muscles met with his bones, where the blood flowed within his frame, slowly mapping out in his mind the extent of his wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as he could tell, Sally was correct in her assumption that nothing vital had been punctured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t make it hurt any less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his focus elsewhere, distracting himself from the throbbing pain in his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdsong, the wind, the gentle rush of the waves washing ashore some metres away. The scent of the sea breeze, the remainder of the smoke from the fire, the leftover taste of salt and fish on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start to quelling the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sally finally returned with a massive armful of clay, Wilbur had actually managed to get in a bit of a doze. Not much, but it was better than nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey sleeping beauty!” he saw Sally’s needle teeth flash as she plopped herself beside him. “I got DIRT!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” he gave a weak thumbs up. “Watcha gonna make with it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dick.” she slapped the pile of clay before her as she turned to rekindling the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a dick?” Wilbur grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh well,” Sally threw a new log onto the fire before grabbing a handful of the clay, rolling it out into a ball. “Probably a house for it too. Can’t just have a poor little homeless dick with nowhere to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not just build it a temple while you’re at it?” Wilbur joked. “A dick temple. Where all the dicks can congregate and sing the praises of the first dick?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh I like it!” Sally began to form the ball of clay into a distinctly NOT dick shaped bowl. “But first, bowls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well duh.” Wilbur chuckled. “Can’t have a dick without the bowls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to stifle his laughter as he saw his friend snort at the pun, nearly crushing the clay bowl she had placed by the edge of the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had to stop their joking however, as Wilbur choked, curling on his side as pain shot through him. He was no longer coughing up sea water, but that didn’t make his situation any better, he realised, as a pinkish foam began to form at the edges of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his coughing fit had subsided, Sally looked him over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s a good thing I started making bowls.” she stated after listening to his rattling breaths. “I think you’ve got pneumonia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s-that’s bad.” Wilbur choked weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it sure as hell ain’t good.” Sally pulled the edges of the sweater back down over her knees, tucking them up to her chest as she watched the series of lopsided bowls baking by the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully these guys will be done by morning.” she said quietly. “And then we can start making some teas and shit for ya.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s-if it’s pneumonia,” Wilbur thought back to what Phil had taught him about potion brewing. “There’s a-a really gross way to get rid of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’ll-we’ll need some sort of bread for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof that’s gonna be a problem.” Sally sat back on her heels. “I think there was some millet around here but I’m not sure how well that would work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should be fine.” Wilbur closed his eyes. “Tomorrow though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Sally shuffle beside him, pressing her back against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow.” she repeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur slept fitfully that night as the fever finally returned. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. "Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno makes his first friend. Through letter sending and mutual interests. Or... is he just trying to distract himself from the previous events?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: references to PTSD and childhood psychosis flashbacks. </p><p>(What's this victorian letter sending nonsense doing in my post-apocalyptic adventure/fantasy/whump/sick-fic?! I have no answer aside from, I dunno it's cute? <br/>It's a long chapter this time. <br/>Thank you for reading, I hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Techno was surprised, to say the least, at the sight of the pot of dirt at his bedroom door. A small note was attached to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, he picked up the pot, careful not to drop the note as he brought the strange gift inside, setting himself down at the small table by the window. He gave the dirt a light poke with a clawed finger. It was...dirt. Regular, garden variety dirt. A bit dry. Smelled a tad like grass and dried leaves. Typical dirt scent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pot it was in, however, appeared to be handmade, with little flower imprints moulded into its side. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cute.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought as he finally turned his attention to the envelope, breaking the wax seal and unfolding the letter within. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was even more confused at what was written. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello sir,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am very sorry about the fright I gave you yesterday noon. I am so used to the usual inhabitants that I did not think to warn you of my presence first. I know on the mainland my kind are often perceived as a threat and I hope I did not startle you too much, again I am very sorry! Please accept this gift as an apology from me. I’ve cultivated the soil to be perfect for roses, I heard you knew a bit about gardening and thought that maybe you would like it? If not then maybe the pot would be nice for something? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, I’m really not that good at gift giving! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This letter is so terrible, I’ve run out of paper though or I would rewrite it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please forgive me, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucina (Lucy)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno balked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fuck?!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The voices, for once, had nothing to say on the matter. As if even they were confused. The only thing coherent he managed to hear from them was just the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirt</span>
  </em>
  <span> over and over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was...there was no way an enderman had just written a letter to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except the pot of dirt and a very obvious piece of inked parchment in his hands, told him otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had happened. That had indeed just happened. He’d been given a gift by an enderman- enderwoman?- who went by the name of Lucy and had supposedly found him on that beach those few days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to do. Every part of his being told him this was not possible. Every part of him said this shouldn’t have happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, it did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno drew a quill and ink from the end of the table, placing a sheet of fresh parchment before him. He eyed the letter once more, and then wrote his reply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello Lucina, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am...confused? I suppose that is the right term? But I am otherwise alright. Apology accepted. And I’m sorry if I may have scared you by my own reaction. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, he wasn’t good at this either. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do actually know a fair bit about gardening, thank you for the little pot of earth. Are there any places about here that I could obtain rose cuttings from? I think some roses would be nice to have. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned. Gods this letter was sounding dumber by the second! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know how to make rose tea. If you would like some? Do you like tea?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cringed, forcing himself to keep from crossing out that last bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you make the pot yourself? It’s cute. Do you do pottery? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He crossed out the bit of it being cute, it was cute, but it felt weird just straight up admitting it to someone he didn’t even know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m very bad at this too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He admitted.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But thank you for the gift. And- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rubbed a hand across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>And for helping me and Phil.</span></em> <em><span>I’m in your debt.</span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade (Techno) </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would have crumpled the paper up on the spot if he hadn’t heard Sam’s knock at the door. Before he could have thrown the paper out, he shoved it into the woman’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tech-what?” the demon gave him a quizzical look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is very badly written I’m bad at letters and accepting apologies or thanking people!” Techno blurted out. “Just give this to Lucy before I tear it up and avoid leaving the room all day, please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinked, a confused look crossing her face as she nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to do that then.” her eyes briefly flicked over to the pot of dirt on the table. “How are you feeling today if I may ask?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Confused.” Techno rubbed his face again. “Avoiding some thoughts. Most thoughts actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has been a lot these past few days.” Sam nodded. “Would you perhaps want to take a walk later? If you feel up to it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shook his head. “Not today, I’m just...gods I don’t even know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Overwhelmed?” the demon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Techno grabbed the ends of his hair. “Yeah I think that’s it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled gently. “I’ll bring you up some chamomile. Do you want anything else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices began to mutter in confusion once more and Techno hissed, clenching the ends of his hair. “Do you have any yarn?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later saw him sipping the chamomile tea, weaving the yarn in and out and around his fingers as he tried to relax himself. Letting the tangle of thread form into a spider web, then a cradle, then a bed, then a single string once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had begun a simple crochet pattern with his hands when he saw a slip of parchment fly under the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snatched it up, quickly unfolding it as he began to read the contents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello Technoblade, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m surprised you responded so quickly! I had to buy another set of parchment I wasn’t prepared for this, I’m so sorry! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m grateful for the acceptance of apology and for the acceptance of the gift. I do know of a few places in the main city that sells rose cuttings but it will be difficult for me go there, I don’t do so well in crowds. But I can always get you some wild cuttings if you would like? There are plenty of wild roses all about the island. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so glad I guessed right that you know about gardening! I would have looked pretty foolish giving you some earth otherwise. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes! I did make it myself, it’s pretty terrible, I was in a rush, I didn’t think if you would like it or not. I don’t know if men like flowers. Do men like flowers? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do like tea but you don’t have to make any for me, thank you for the offer though. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And you’re welcome. I was very confused and worried when I found you two, I’ve heard you’ve gone through quite a lot, I do hope you’re alright? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry I didn’t help you when I first found you, I was worried you would be scared of me. I also don’t have much medicinal expertise, I had to go get Sam. I’m so sorry I made you wait for so long! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you again for accepting my apology, and for responding to my letter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucina (Lucy) </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately Techno began work on his response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange, he thought, why was he suddenly so interested in this Lucy? He had never bothered much with socialising with anyone around his age, if Lucy was indeed around his age. It had just never occurred to him as being something he needed. He much preferred books and solitude, away from the excess noise and unconscious touches that others so often created. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it because she had helped him? Or was it because he was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to not think about Wilbur? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched, pushing aside the memories of the previous days aboard the ship, the aching pain of having lost his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twin..</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lost…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dead…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Killed him…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur’s dead…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur’s dead…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He set up another piece of parchment on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distraction this may be, but it was a distraction he needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucina, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s okay, I don’t do well in crowds either, there’s no need to get the cuttings any time soon. I’m more than willing to wander about the island and find some myself, once I’m well enough. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know how much you heard about Philza and I’s conditions, but I should be able to be up and about soon enough. If you would like, I can drop some tea off at your place? Or have someone deliver it to you? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honestly, I’m trying to keep my mind off of things right now, so any little distraction would be good. Do you have any book suggestions? If you read? That was stupid, I’m sorry, you can write so of course you know how to read. That sounded so terrible now that I read that aloud, gods I don’t know how to write letters I’m so sorry!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cringed in frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know what else to write really? Uh, I’m eighteen? I like books? I can’t speak for all men but I do like flowers, in answer to your question. Before you ask, yes the hair colour is natural, I’m a boar hybrid. And no I’ve never cut it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well fuck! Might as well tell her my whole life story at this point! He rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t like direct eye contact, it hurts, I don’t know why. I don’t like being touched. I’m really bad in crowds and with loud noises. I like jewellery and flowers and gardening and sparring. I know, weird combination of traits huh? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know why I’m writing this, I’m just really- I don’t want to think too much right now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please write back? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade (Techno)</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He folded the letter up and slipped it back under the door before flopping down on the bed, sighing heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this how one gained friends? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Enderman…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not a friend…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liars…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lying to you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not real…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking crazy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, letting himself drift off into a light doze as the sunlight of the afternoon drifted onto his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the response to his letter arrived, the sun had begun to set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t bother to think about the rapidness of the letters arriving and being sent out, he was just glad to have received something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello again, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you like to, when you’re well enough, let me show you some quiet places around the island? I could show you where the roses are. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t like eye contact either. It’s….scary is the word? It’s hard to explain. But it’s nice to know I’m not the only one I guess. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m eighteen too!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I do like books. It’s okay, I know a lot of people on the mainland don’t have access to books, so I understand the confusion. I like history books mostly. And stories about the old gods. There’s actually a lot of books about that in the library of the building you’re in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m actually here right now. It’s on the first floor. It’s pretty empty right now, very quiet. I have tea and some fresh cookies. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you like to come down? Maybe? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s alright if not, you should be resting. But if you do, I’m going to be here for awhile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s nice to meet you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno paced, folding and unfolding the letter as he walked about the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never had a friend his age before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure he had talked a few times with other children growing up, other teens. But he’d never been able to keep conversation for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to connect with others. He knew he was different, he knew it was difficult for others his age to understand him. The voices always whispered doubts, always stirred compulsions he knew he shouldn’t act on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The episodes when he was no longer in the present, when he was a child, when he was scared and hurt and unable to fight back...no one understood those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His methods to quiet the voices, to stifle the episodes, could be seen as distracting to others at best and downright rude or scary at worst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never meant for it to be that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t his fault people just assumed eye contact was warranted for any sort of conversation. It wasn’t his fault people would always try to shake hands or touch his shoulders as a greeting. It wasn’t his fault people would give him odd looks for mumbling to himself or tapping out patterns or chewing his hair. It wasn’t his fault people would avoid a screaming, confused, scared child on the side of the road who was seeing horrors they couldn’t even begin to comprehend while his family did their best to comfort him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, crumpling the letter in his hands, twisting it as he paced a circle into the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always wondered what it would be like to have a friend. Maybe this was his chance? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scared of you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MONSTER! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Always scare them off…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Uncomfortable… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Run away….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hide from you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FREAK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ignore you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s only being polite…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t care…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MONSTER!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t care…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or she will.” he said quietly, pausing in his pacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s different too.” he tapped the crumpled paper in his hands. “She could understand? Maybe she could. Maybe she could.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lying to himself! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FREAK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thinks he can have a friend? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Never had one…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Will never have a friend…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does anyone care? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one cares…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil cares!” he snapped. “Phil cares!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam cared too, he realised. At the very least cared enough to help him and Phil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur cared- had cared- too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shook his head, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at that thought. He didn't want to think about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Not now...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If two people cared about him in some way, then there was chance another could as well, he told himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting paper.” he said aloud, piling together a few sheets from the table, stacking them neatly. “She ran out of paper and had to buy more so I’m getting paper.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s nice…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just being nice…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Be nice! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck off! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After collecting together the paper and tucking the small spool of yarn into a pocket, Techno took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart was pounding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished it wouldn’t, it was so loud! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no helping it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the door and made his way down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls were bright with the orange glow of the sunset, a little bright he noticed. He had to squint a bit as he made his way down the wooden steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his eyes down, watching each step as his toes made contact with the floor. The wood was smooth beneath his feet, the grains were well worn from years of being trod upon. The little taps his claws made as he padded barefoot down the steps, were pleasantly calming. Familiar, patterned, it helped to slow his beating heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He counted the tapping within his head, papers clutched to his chest, as he finally reached the first floor and made his way to the door described in the letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He’d never been this far down in the building before, normally he stayed resting in his room unless he felt well enough for a change of scenery. But even then he never went so far as the kitchens on the second floor. He only ever stayed in said kitchens while they were quiet, the bustle of the cooks and the cacophony of sounds and aromas were often too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, different, down this far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor was tile here, smooth and cold on his feet. The walls were the same, soft sandy colour as the rest of the place, though with more decorations he noted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door before him was already ajar, tall and wooden. The soft glow of the sunset filtering in from the room behind it drifted up to his toes. He smelled the woody, dusty scent of books in the air, followed by the hint of candle wax and the sharp tang of lantern oil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno took a breath and entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...fuck that’s a lot of books…” he muttered at seeing the walls upon walls of shelves, lined with books, scrolls, old world implements, everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared, frozen, unable to pry himself from eyeing the hidden capsules of knowledge all shelved neatly in rows before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only broke from his trance when he heard a faint, inquisitive chirp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked, turning towards the sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enderm- enderwoman? was sitting on a pile of pillows and rugs by a table, books strewn about her in various stages of use, a heavily marked journal was open on her lap and a set of paper at her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never seen an enderman that wasn’t a potential threat before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As before, her eyes were hidden behind a blindfold and a simple, white dress hung loosely about her slender frame. She wasn’t bony like he had thought most of her kind were, but rather her body was a semi-carapace, creating the illusion of bony protrusions beneath her skin. Black hair grew like a mane from her head and partially down her shoulders, slender doe-like ears protruded from the sides of her head, and a tufted tail curled about her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ears pricked upwards, swivelling towards him as she lowered her gaze and rapidly scratched something out onto her journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She patted the pile of rugs beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hesitated a moment. The voices babbled in his mind, confused, frightened, condescending, confused again. He shook his head and made his way towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-uh...hi.” he glanced at the seat opposite from her at the table. “Is it- is it okay if I just sit here for now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The enderm- Lucy, nodded. What sounded like a faint purr of invitation gurgled from her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat himself down, placing the pile of papers before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You uh…” he stared at the table. “You mentioned you had to buy a new set of paper so...sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slid the papers towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” he said once more. “I don’t...it’s been a rough few days and...I don’t really know how to talk to people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the scratching of a pen on paper before Lucy slid the journal towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s okay, I’m not very good at talking to people either. We can just read and have some tea?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt a faint smile play about his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” he sighed in relief. “Yeah that sounds nice actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy trilled, he saw her tail flick about contentedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any books you’d recommend?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Lucy shuffle about the piles she had created before placing one before him. A paperback with a series of old world artworks on the front titled, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Odyssey. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He read the blurb on the back, it was written in a much older dialect to what he was used to, but it was still understandable. A tale of a man who had insulted the wrong god and his trials to return home to his wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next hour or so, he was thoroughly engrossed in the tale. Only pausing to take sips from the tea Lucy offered him, occasionally nibbling one of the biscuits as he flipped through the pages, soaking in the story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only stopped once he realised how quiet it suddenly was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of the sea birds of the day had ceased, the faint mutterings of the few library goers were silent. Only the soft crashing of the distant waves and occasional popping of a candle or lantern were still audible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lucy’s occasional purring sigh as she breathed, shifting on the pile of blankets she had burrowed into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How late are we allowed to stay here?” Techno asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve stayed all night before.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was written in the journal as a reply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They don’t mind as long as we put out the lanterns and candles when we’re done. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was nice, Techno decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait….</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was struck with a thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you reading through that blindfold?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy seemed to chuckle, a light trill emanating from her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held up the journal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The fabric is sheer. It’s just to avoid looking at people’s eyes.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Techno nodded. Made sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How are you by the way? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The journal was held up once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Am I keeping you up too late? Should you be resting?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay.” he rubbed his eyes. “Tired but I don’t think I can sleep just yet. You?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy paused. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t feel like sleeping either. Don’t really want to.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Same.” Techno chuckled. “I just don’t want to think though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy’s ears twitched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can I ask why?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When I try to sleep,” he ran the ends of his hair across his lips. “All I can see is just the previous days, replaying in my head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then I panic.” he sighed. “And then I can’t sleep cause I don’t want to think cause when I think it’s just that, over and over again. So I just…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just try to stay up until I’m too tired to think I guess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy’s ears drooped. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No no don’t be!” Techno waved a hand. “This-this is nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a sip of the tea, cold now from the late evening chill. “It’s nice to just be with someone for awhile.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long moment of silence, the two of them both shifting awkwardly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your hair looks really nice.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt something flutter in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never been complimented by anyone besides Phil or Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was...odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was...it was nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...thanks..”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. "Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires and most their sires disgrace." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza and Sam have a little chat and realise they have a lot more in common than they may have thought.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: PTSD of torture, implied child abuse (Phil talks a bit about Techno's old home life), terrible flirting attempts, hair brushing, gratuitous tea symbolism </p><p>(Hey yall! Thanks for reading again today, I hope you enjoy and have a good day! My little sibling and ideas moderator says hi btw :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much that Philza could do as he healed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lying on his back only hurt his wings, lying on his front put pressure on his broken sternum. Being on his sides was fine, until they grew sore and he’d have to shift, which meant movement, which meant pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between that, and restless sleep filled with nightmares, there was no real relief for him until he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion at various points during the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tried reading when he was awake, but his mind would wander endlessly, always drifting back to the events of the previous week. Focusing on anything was next to impossible, but he needed to do something! Anything! If only to keep from thinking about that fucking ship! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His one relief was Sam. Her teas, her gentle voice that distracted his mind, her ability to sooth his aching wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the one thing he’d managed to look forward to for most days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza woke to the faint, cool touch of Sam’s hand against his forehead and the warm scent of basil tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Sam helped him up, leaning him against the headboard of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired mostly.” Phil sighed. “I just want to sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you able to?” Sam brushed a lock of hair from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not well.” he shook his head. “Just…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut, shaking as the dark memories attempted to surface. The sickening snap of breaking bone, the sharp agony of feathers being torn, the suffocating salty sea spray in his throat-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Sam’s chilled hands on his shoulders, rubbing soothing circles against his skin, the gentle touch bringing him out of the horrid thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made basil tea,” she smiled. “Not very sweet but it should help with soothing your wounds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve also ground up some willow bark in it as well.” she offered him a mug, still warm and steaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did she always know what he seemed to need? He wondered as he took the mug, holding it to his chest as the warmth seeped into his being, soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to stay?” Sam asked as he took a sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a sweet tea, exactly as she described, but certainly wasn’t bitter either. It was pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was good, he thought. He could taste again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” He asked, shifting to make room for her on the bed beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sat herself down on the offered space, tucking her legs under her blue robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno was in the library this morning.” she smiled. “He fell asleep there last night talking with Lucy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil chuckled. “The endergirl?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Sam nodded. “I’m glad she’s making friends, she’s rather shy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So’s Techno.” Phil took a sip of the tea once more, it was wonderfully savoury! “He’s not as scary as he looks, I’m just happy someone realises that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I may ask,” he shifted. “You said you’re this library’s curator?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” Sam began to plait a lock of her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are others?” Phil asked. “Other libraries?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flashed a set of sharpened fangs. “You’re inquisitive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>assume</span>
  </em>
  <span> there would be others.” Phil continued. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Themiscyra, the island of knowledge. I’m just curious as to what sorts of knowledge each one specialises in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm!” Sam chuckled. “I keep telling you, I’ve taken a vow. If I were to give away all the island’s secrets then I’d have to keep you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that’s a route you’d be willing to take in life?” she raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza felt the tips of his ears flush for a split second. The hell was up with that?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about a compromise?” he set the mug on the bedside table. “I’m already here, and will be for a while. So why not give me what you believe a fair amount of knowledge is, in exchange for my stay here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam frowned. “Oh gods damn you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I not already?” Phil grinned wickedly. “For conversing with a demon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well this library in particular,” she gave a light poke to his shoulder. “Specialises in picking up stray, wounded birds with a habit of not holding their tongues.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In all seriousness,” she crossed her arms. “Histories of the old world.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We collect various relics, stories, music, legends, the like.” Sam explained. “Less practical history and more cultural. We can’t guarantee that everything within history is accurate, so my library specialises in selecting the fact from the fiction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although,” she added. “That’s not to say that there is no fact based within fiction. Hence why we bother to collect these stories at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cocked a brow. “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading some of our collections?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the moment I haven’t been able to read much of anything.” Phil returned the mug to his hands as he tried not to think. Tried to block the memories from his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” Sam’s voice grew sorrowful. “Would you like to talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know.” Phil gripped the mug tightly within his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be honest, I don’t know you,” he explained. “I don’t know your intentions-your island’s intentions with my sons-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut himself off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son,” he corrected painfully. “and I.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take this the wrong way please, you’ve done so much to help us already.” he kept his eyes trained on the mug, uncertain of exactly what he was doing. “It’s just, I don’t-I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, unsure of what he had been trying to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your trust in others was broken.” he heard Sam state solemnly. “It’s understandable to feel confused about what exactly you should do in this sort of situation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt her hand on his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to talk if you don’t feel ready to.” she said quietly. “And when you do feel ready, I’ll always be available.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you don’t want to think about anything, I can help with that too.” she gave his hand a light squeeze in reassurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza only nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That offer did sound nice, he thought. To have his mind empty, to be able to rest peacefully, no pain, no nightmares, no regret or that horrid mess of swimming emotions that bubbled within his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to help you with your hair?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil’s ears twitched at the offer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it really that bad?” he scoffed, looking back up at Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While salt water does make one’s hair soft,” she chided. “Yours is needing a desperate combing. So, yes. I would say it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch.” Phil mocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did probably look a fair wreck, he noted. He’d been too weak to really do much for his wings, let alone his hair. He cringed at the thought of it being matted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could always ask Techno, he thought. Except considering the boy had spent his whole night in the library, he wouldn’t be in much shape to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would, actually, like some help.” he relented. “If you don’t mind?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I offered, of course I wouldn’t mind.” Sam grinned, helping him sit up the rest of the way, allowing her to reach the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza flinched instinctively as he sensed her hand leaving his line of sight, but relaxed as he felt her fingers carding through his hair, lightly pulling it away from his shoulders and down his back before she began her work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recognised the sensation of a bone toothed comb lightly scratching the back of his shoulders as she picked through the knots at the ends of his hair. It had only been maybe a week since he had last combed his hair but gods did it feel like months! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know if I pull too hard.” Sam instructed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil barely nodded, he doubted that would be a risk with her. She’d been so gentle with his wings before it seemed unlikely she wouldn’t be for his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it you’ve only ever cut your own hair?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you say that?” Phil’s ears twitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno’s hair is so long and yet yours is fairly short in comparison.” Sam ran the comb, smoothly now, through the ends of his hair, beginning to work a layer above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried cutting his hair once.” Philza explained. “He did not take it well. So we stopped.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t come from a very happy home,” he added. “Hair cutting was an unpleasant ritual for him I found, so we thought it would be best to avoid it and just let it grow out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s very long.” Sam seemed impressed. “And so well maintained. He wasn’t bothered by having to care for it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took awhile for us to work out a system.” Phil took a sip of the tea. “But once he was about- five or six I think?- we settled on something that worked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d brush it out slowly and avoid using any large brushes or combs, and then I’d put it in a loose braid to sleep in so it was out of the way for the next day, but not uncomfortable to wear for long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And as he got older he got more comfortable with having it tied up in a bun or ponytail when working,” he smiled at the memories. “And eventually he would just plait or tie it up himself without me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still would ask for me to brush it out at the end of the day though.” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rather sweet of you.” he felt the comb lightly scratching the back of his neck. “It’s nice to see a father caring for his son that way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I?” Philza chuckled. “He’s my boy, I just want him to be happy and if that means I have to comb his hair every night, then I comb his hair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Do father’s not do that?” he asked, confused as to where the comment had come from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few of our girls have come from families that believed it was woman’s work to bother with hair.” Sam hissed. “They’d cut their boy’s hair short and then expect only the mother’s to care for their daughter’s hair. And then have the audacity to be appalled when roles were reversed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil flinched at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s their kid’s hair.” he groaned. “Who the fuck cares who takes care of it at the end of the day so long as the kid’s happy and comfortable with it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Sam agreed, pausing in her work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah if the kid wants short hair go ahead and get it cut,” Phil added. “But if they don’t want it cut, why force them? And why force them to grow it out if they like it short? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> hair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he apologised, hoping he hadn’t sounded too upset. “I just have really strong opinions about hair cutting is all. Especially after accidentally making Tech cry that one time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated that memory, the poor boy had lost his mind at the sight of the scissors, screaming and kicking despite having seen Wilbur perfectly fine with the trim. He’d always felt bad after that. He could only imagine how much worse it would have been if he had actually gone through with the trim without consulting the boy about it first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be fair, he told himself, he had only found them a few months prior and had no knowledge of how to raise a kid, let alone two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to apologise about.” he felt Sam’s comb finally reach his scalp. “It’s nice to see a father that cares about his children.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teeth of the comb scratched pleasantly against his skin as she carded it through his hair. He sighed, feeling himself relax at the sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That comb enchanted or something?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you count the good vibes, then yes.” He sensed Sam smirking as she combed his hair behind him, splitting the locks into a group of three as she began to plait them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza closed his eyes, sighing in contentment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was nice, he decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you come back tomorrow?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always come back.” Sam laughed. “Do you just want an excuse to have your hair brushed again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Philza grinned. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. "And steal thyself from life by slow decays."- Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur wakes up from a fever and has an awkward time sorting out his emotions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Pneumonia symptoms, mentions of injury, really terrible flirting, references to cannibalism </p><p>(Hey yalls! Sorry for the short chapter today, I've written more chapters in a separate doc and will be going through them and adding to them so I have more things to post on days that I don't write. I might have to take some time off writing for a bit as I'm moving to a dorm in a few days and have to get things packed up for that, but since I have more chapters already in the works on the seperate doc I can still keep giving you a steady ish stream of content for a bit at least. I'm hoping to get this arc finished or at least at a good stopping point before school starts up again, maybe I'll work out a proper writing schedule? Dunno yet, a lot of things are up in the air right now. <br/>In any case, thank you for reading and I hope you all have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur had no memory of the next week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure he remembered coughing, he remembered the pain of the wound tearing at each ragged heave of his chest, he remembered the reddish haze that coated his vision and the faint ringing in his ears throughout it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mostly he remembered falling asleep one night beside Sally, watching the flames of the campfire flicker about his vision as he pressed his back to hers for warmth. And then he remembered waking up to an awful ache in his throat and chest, his hair slick with sweat clinging to the sides of his face as harsh sunlight, just a bit too bright, filtering into his eyes; a week after he had closed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilby?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lolled his head towards the voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Sal.” he croaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank gods!” She rubbed her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked red almost. Had she been crying? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur tried to raise a hand, only for his arm to shake and collapse at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...fuck…” he rasped. “What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t remember?” Sally placed a small bowl- when did they get bowls?- of water to his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drank it down eagerly, gods his throat was so dry! The water was cool, soothing on his aching throat, the coolness seemed to seep into his core at each swallow. It was a god send! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not...really?” he choked. Why was he so shaky? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a fever.” Sally explained, brushing a lock of sweat laden hair from his eyes. “It got really bad, you were...you were coughing a lot. No blood, just pink foam but that’s still pretty bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood...Fever?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Sally shook her head. “Still the pneumonia. I got you to sit up for a while yesterday to cough up as much as you could. Probably why you actually woke up today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your wound is infected though.” she said solemnly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur winced as he felt the inflamed tissue in his side flare up, as if thinking about it had made it react. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Well...that’s fucking...great.” he grit his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mentioned, before you passed out,” Sally placed a damp rag over his forehead. “Something about millet? I mean, I found some millet and you said that would work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Still have no idea what you’re on about though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Millet? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wilbur dug back through his memories, why did he- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to make...mould. “ he explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Sally blink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof, your brains are probably melted from the fever.” she patted his hair. “Go back to sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” he groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bread mould...I don’t know how it works…” Wilbur coughed. “It kills infection…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you’re crazy.” Sally shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well...so are you.” Wilbur grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl sighed. “Alright, what should I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did his best to explain to her. A mixture of ground millet and water, cooked by the fire until it became a bread-like texture, torn up and left out until it grew mould. He had seen Philza do something similar when an arrow wound to the arm had grown infected. The man had cleaned and drained the wound as best he could before binding a moulded piece of bread to it and eating a few pieces. He had explained the mould killed infection. How, he didn’t know, only that it did. And as long as one wasn’t allergic to the mould, it was incredibly effective. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza had even given it to Techno, when his brother had gotten a nasty sinus infection after falling into a disgusting fountain in one of the ruins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur had never tried the method before, but if pneumonia was nothing more than a lung infection, then maybe it would help? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one way to find out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur felt useless, waiting for Sally to pick the millet she had found. Waiting for her grind up the grains with a series of rocks. Waiting for her to make little pancake shapes of dough to cook by the fire. Waiting in general. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing he could do though, try as he might his hands were too shaky. Sitting made him feel nauseous. He felt so cold, then warm, then cold again. All he could manage to do was lie there within the shelter, drifting in and out of consciousness, apologising for his uselessness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sick, Wilby.” Sally patted his hands as he apologised once more. “It’s okay, I’ve got this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-” the red head cut him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shush!” she grinned, pushing his shoulder playfully. “You helped me escape that ship, and you’re keeping me company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally flashed him a needley grin. “You can repay me when you’ve healed up, sound good?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing…” Wilbur rasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched quietly beneath the shade of their shelter as Sally fried up the millet cakes on a large rock beside the fire, poking at them with a stick to get them to flip. They actually didn’t smell too bad, Wilbur thought. He was a little disappointed that they couldn’t eat them immediately, maybe once his infection had gone down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made more bowls?” He noted the new set of clay bowls and cups lining the back of the shelter, each one looking much neater and more functional than the last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup!” Sally poked a millet cake away from the fire. “Managed to actually get them less leaky, once I get a big enough one we can actually make some fish stew in it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more stick fried fish!” she held her hands up in a mock cheer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I like stick fried fish!” Wilbur pretended to pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna get real tired of it pretty soon though.” Sally winked. “And then you’re gonna be all ‘aw dammit! Not more fish!’ and then I’m gonna be all ‘we’re on a fucking island, dumbass! Now eat your fish before I eat you.’ And then you’ll complain and I’ll just threaten to keep the fish away from you and tell you to get your own food, and then we’ll split the island in half and try to ignore each other, but then we’ll be too lonely and eventually both come back and apologise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe,” Wilbur smirked. “One of us goes mad from all the fish and we just try to eat each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew.” Sally laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes grew dark as she grinned. “I’d eat your mouth first then, and your tongue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe then,” she chuckled wickedly. “I won’t have to listen to you complain when I eat the rest of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was again! That stupid, gods dammed blush! Wilbur turned away from her, trying to stifle the rising redness in his face at the imagined implications. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake!” he hissed. “What is it with you?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I just said what parts I’d eat first if I had to resort to cannibalism.” Sally laughed. “You’re the one making it weird.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to stifle the blush. He could counter this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’d eat your eyes first.” he stated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, why?” Sally tugged the edges of the sweater back over her knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’d go bad first otherwise.” Wilbur shrugged. “Also they have a lot of nutrients in them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw,” Sally grinned. “Sure it’s not cause they’re pretty?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur felt his ears go red again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....maybe…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I’m trying to think about this practically, I’m not sure why you keep making it….weird.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also this is fucking cannibalism we’re talking about!” he hissed. “Nothing about this is cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally laughed, bubbly and stupidly adorable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods he hoped this fever would end soon, that had to be it. It had to be the fucking fever! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well for what it’s worth,” Sally stifled her giggles. “I think your eyes are pretty too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said yours were!” Wilbur snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh the cakes are done!” The girl changed the subject, dragging the cooking stone away from the flame. “What should I do with them now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed. What the hell was he going to do about this girl? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put them in the back of the shelter,” he instructed. “And then when they turn blue I’ll eat them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally paused for a minute. “That’s fucking gross.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the one who suggested eating me!” Wilbur hissed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. "For too much rest itself becomes a pain." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno has trouble processing trauma. He has a bad time of it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Anxiety, moderate sensory overload, unresolved trauma </p><p>(Sorry for the short chapter again, I'm now working mainly on packing for my move so I don't have time to write much at the moment so I'm just posting the chapters I've already done. <br/>Sibling says hi! <br/>Thank you for reading and for all the sweet comments you leave, it's the highlight of my sibling's and I's days, you're all such wonderful people. <br/>We hope you have a good day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Techno groaned, rubbing his eyes. He shouldn’t have stayed up that late. Everything was so bright now, so loud, even if it shouldn’t be loud. He hated it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He buried his face into the pillows of his bed. Then shifted to his side. Then his other side. Finally kicking the blankets off of him as the heat of the day finally grew too unbearable. Nothing was comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have known, he chided himself. Mornings after a late night of reading were always miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Made a friend though…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nice friend…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Friend is good…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quiet…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good friend…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We like Lucy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Friend!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno swung his legs out of the bed, placing his feet onto the cool, wooden floor and began to pace. He hugged his arms around himself as stared at the floor, watching as it flowed beneath his feet as he paced about the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt terrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part was that he couldn’t figure out why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, maybe he did know? And he just didn’t want to think about it? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>New friend!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have a friend! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy is good friend! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Visit Phil…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dadza…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Need hug…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>NO TOUCH!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Friends!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Say hi to friend! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too warm…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap tap…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap feet on floor…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too warm…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Need hug..</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno swung his arms out away from him, the sudden building of pressure in his chest from holding himself grew too much. He hissed, grabbed the ends of his hair and twisted them, breaking the strands as he continued his frustrated pacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was he so upset anyhow? He wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He had just made a friend! He’d never had a friend before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never had a friend before… Was that why he was so, so...confused? Frustrated? Why though? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze in his pacing, running the ends of his hair across his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should write her something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sat down at the table and drew out the parchment and pen he had saved from yesterday and began to scribble out a message. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello again Lucy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for inviting me to the library last night. I’m sorry if I was too quiet, I’ve not had any friends before, I wasn’t sure what to talk about-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t seem right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crumpled the paper up and tossed it aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was wrong with that last sentence. Something was very wrong, but he couldn’t- he didn’t want to- think about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno stood and left his room, chewing the ends of his hair as he made his way to Phil’s room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was awake -thank the gods!- as he wandered in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tech?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno barely registered his father’s voice as he sat down on the bed beside him, leaning his head against his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Philza’s hand against the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong mate?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno pushed the hand aside, muttering a short “no” at the touch and scrunched his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against his father’s shoulder. He just wanted to feel him there, alive, warm, the soft breathing of life against his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be held, didn’t want to feel the weight of another arm around him, not with the crushing of the weight already within his chest. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to think, didn’t want...didn’t want….</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t think!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t think!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...no...no...no...no…” Techno pressed his forehead further into Phil’s shoulder as he felt tears spring into his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Tech.” he sensed Phil’s hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain if he wanted the touch. “Is it the voices?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not us!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know what it is!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not us!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not them.” Techno mumbled quietly. “Not them. Don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to talk?” he heard Phil ask. “Are you alright if I hold you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno burrowed further into Phil’s shoulder. “Just talk…don’t touch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Phil place his hand to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay mate.” the man sighed. “Not sure what to talk about, I guess...Oh Sam and I talked a bit about your hair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was really impressed with how long it was, says that a lot of girls are gonna probably try to ask for advice about it.” he chuckled. “Might even have a few offer to brush it for ya, not sure how you’d take that though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam actually put mine into a plait, don’t know if you noticed.” Philza continued to ramble. “It was rather nice actually, when we get the chance I’d like to brush your hair again, if you’re alright with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Techno felt himself relaxing somewhat at the familiar, soothing voice. He grabbed Phil’s hand and placed it on the back of his head, still keeping his forehead pressed to his father’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keeps forgetting!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forget!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you forget?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How could you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dead!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate this.” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hate what?” he felt Phil lightly stroke the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of this.” Techno muttered. “I don’t know. All of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so stupid.” he finally wrapped his arms around Phil. “I’m so fucking stupid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tech!” he felt Phil’s arms hug him tightly. “You’re not stupid!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno tightened his grip around his father, flinching as he felt Phil hiss from pain at the sudden pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid!” he snarled, burying his face into the man’s shoulder as he felt tears beginning to stream down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was on watch that night!” Techno cut him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was on watch!” his voice was muffled. “And I didn’t fucking see them! I didn’t see them! I knew something was wrong! I knew it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I just...so fucking stupid…” he trailed off. He knew that wasn’t the only reason he felt so awful. But he didn’t want to think about that at the moment. He never wanted to think about that. Never. Not again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgetting something!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let him forget…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Want to forget…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forget like your mother!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not like that…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like that…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She died too!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t save her…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t save hi-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHUT UP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHUT UP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SHUT UP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Techno snarled, releasing Phil as he flung his arms around himself, digging his claws into his sides in an effort to silence the voices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he shook his head violently as he began to tremble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could sense Phil shifting beside him, silent, not touching him, but offering a comforting hand should he need it. He took the hand as he felt the sting of his claws drawing blood from his sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long while he stayed that way, his eyes clenched shut against the world, one hand on Phil’s own, the other still digging into his side. The voices slowly began to quiet as he matched his breathing with his father’s, finally beginning to relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still felt sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still a horrible crushing sensation within his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, at the very least, he felt a little better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil was alive. He was alive and he was here for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Techno choked, rubbing his eyes, wincing as he pried his claws from his skin. “I’m sorry I kicked you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to his father, sitting beside him on the bed. The man looked confused for a long second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you kick me?” he raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I dragged us ashore.” Techno felt a stupid, stressed grin play about his face. “You’d inhaled a ton of water and I didn’t have my hands free so I kicked you until you started breathing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s why.” He said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Techno chuckled. “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Phil grinned. “You did pretty well thinking on your feet like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get you back for it later though.” he warned, jokingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno huffed, closing his eyes and leaning against Phil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel good.” he mumbled. “Can I just stay here for a bit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his father’s hand lightly pat his head. “Sure thing mate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno didn’t exactly drift off into sleep, nor was he awake either. But he was relaxed at least as he curled up beside his father the way he used to as a child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed those days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to think about why. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. "Far from joyous cities, and the ways of men." -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza and Sam get a tad sappy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: physical therapy, terrible terrible flirting attempts from both parties </p><p>(Hey guys! Couldn't sleep cause brain said 'you're moving in a day, you gotta do things' what things? Things. So in short I've been up since 3am and writing in between packing cause brain says 'DO THINGS!'. Whoever invented coffee, may the gods bless you you sweet being! <br/>Thank you all for reading and for leaving your lovely comments! Sibling would say hi but it's 6am and they're still very much asleep and have school in a few hours so I will say hi on their behalf. I hope you all have a lovely day! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Philza gasped as a sharp pain shot through his back and shoulder, wincing as he gave his wing a slight flex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>a little</span>
  </em>
  <span> movement. Not a whole stretch.” Sam’s hand pressed against the pressure point between his wings, numbing the sudden onslaught of pain. “Just because the socket has been reset doesn’t mean the muscles know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil rested his head against his knees, tucked up to his chest, as Sam’s fingers slowly worked out the stiffness in his wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...sorry…” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been nearly a week since Techno had come to him, distraught and upset, and he had been unable to do much to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt awful about that. He knew the boy was suffering. Not from anything physical, but not from anything he could easily identify either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stress? That was obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mourning? Most definitely, hell Phil had been mourning for some time now. It was possible, having never felt that feeling before, having always known Wilbur to be at his side, that Techno couldn’t identify what he was feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would snap, Philza knew that. His emotions would bubble within him, unidentified and untreated, and he would eventually break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only hoped he could help him when it finally happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil winced as Sam bent his wing at the elbow joint, lightly pushing it outwards until it was fully outstretched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you said ‘a little’ movement.” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it was,” Sam’s chilled fingers massaged the base of his wing, slowly making her way up the bicep. “Little movements, until your wing is all the way out. Not one movement all at once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers combed through the feathers as she made her way back to the elbow, lightly smoothing the downy fluff on the undersides of his wing, scratching the little itches of the newer pin feathers beginning to grow in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil felt himself relax, sighing heavily as her hands soothed the aches within his damaged wing. He nearly fell limp as he felt her hand press once more against the pressure point in the centre of his back before folding his wing up against him, binding it into place once more with a new sling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had known about that point, did all bird hybrids have it he wondered? It reminded him of how a mother cat would hold their kitten by the scruff of the neck, essentially immobilising them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> she know about that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you do that?” he asked. “That pressure point? How did you know about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a wry smile cross Sam’s pale face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chickens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil blinked, then laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” he sputtered. Had she been using a medical practice for a fucking chicken on him this whole time?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a pet chicken ages ago.” Sam explained, stretching her fingers. “It always went limp when I poked it right between its shoulder blades. It was rather cute actually, it used to sit on my lap and let me scratch its back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly it was rather lucky that you and a chicken have similar wing anatomy.” She grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!” Philza laughed. “You’re fucking with me aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only halfway.” Sam stood, stretching out her arms. “I’ve treated plenty of hybrids in the past, I know quite a bit of things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I did have a pet chicken that liked back scratches.” she grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what you’re saying is,” Phil returned the grin. “You’re treating me like your pet chicken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More or less.” Sam held a hand out to him. “Do you feel up for a walk? You’ve been in this room for quite some time, a bit of sunlight would do you some good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your legs from atrophying as well.” she added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As weak as Phil was, he had to admit, sunlight sounded wonderful. Being outside, not that the room he was in was terrible by any means, but being outside in the air with the wind on his face and blowing through his feathers…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took her hand, leaning against her for support as he shakily made his way to his feet. His legs were stiff from lack of movement, but at least they didn’t cramp when he took a few steps, that was good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam guided him out of the room, down the short hallway and towards a small balcony overlooking the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once outside, Phil felt as if something had clicked within him. He leaned against the balcony, closing his eyes as he felt the cool sea breeze flow past his ears, ruffling his hair. The sunlight on his bare shoulders felt wonderful! Warm and energising, he felt it seep through his skin and into his soul, his black feathers soaking up the heat through his back pleasantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d missed this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost felt as if he was flying once more…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes as that pit of sorrow was reopened in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t fly. Not now, possibly not ever, not with the damage done to his wings. He thought...he thought he’d have accepted that fact by now. But the reflex of lifting his feathers to catch the breeze, only to feel nothing where his pinions would have been, sent a crushing sensation though to his core. As much as Sam was working on them...sometimes he doubted they would ever heal back to their former glory...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. He couldn’t afford those thoughts, not now. Not while he was trying so hard to heal, trying to be there for Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to be there for Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza cast his gaze out onto the island before him, attempting to distract himself from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The building they were in was an old world one, a few storeys high but not nearly the tallest he had ever seen, and modified with quite a few fixtures. A light beige coat of plaster had been painted over the outside and terracotta tiles had replaced whatever the roof had been entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the city was much the same, modified old world buildings all with their roofs replaced and the same beige plaster painted over the walls to prevent the elements from deteriorating the structures. A few newer buildings, built of a similar sandy plaster and tile, dotted about the city. The roads were full of the bright colours of people wandering about, selling wares at market stalls within the shade of the buildings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seabirds circled overhead, clustering together at the far side of the city where a series of docks were set up at the edge of a harbour. Surrounding the borders of the city on all sides, like the edges of a bowl, were the patchy rows of farmland and forest, interspersed at calculated sections. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The greens of the forest, the beige and reds of the city, and the sparkling blue of the not so distant shore, created a gentle gradient of colours. Far from the dark grey of the angry seas Philza had been subjected to not long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he leaned his elbows against the balcony railing, stretching out the backs of his legs. “What’s the deal with only having women on the island?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam leaned next to him, her icy hair fluttering in the breeze as she gazed out across the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was founded by a group of women on a noble’s slave ship that had washed ashore in a wreck.” she explained. “Since then, it’s been gradually growing. Some wrecks here and there, a few groups hearing about an island where they could live away from the chaos of the mainland. A few finding it purely by accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since the founding,” she pulled a lock of hair before her, beginning to plait it. “It’s been a bit of a rule to not allow men on the island except on a few rare occasions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have trade with a select few sailors, and of course we don’t murder anyone who wanders ashore on accident.” she grinned. “Though we certainly don't take kindly to those who arrive purely for 'the novelty' of an island full of women, if you take my meaning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But, a few we keep." she added. “How else would we be able to have children?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Immaculate conception?” Phil raised an eyebrow playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft!” Sam snorted. “We wish!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there are some sailors that settle here? Or try to?” Phil asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few.” Sam shrugged. “We don’t keep many, but the few that we do decide are worthwhile are allowed to stay within the community.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oddly,” she added. “Those of us who end up having sons usually find that they leave the nest fairly early.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boys do tend to wander a lot I find.” Phil shrugged. “They get anxious about a lot of things in their teens and twenties, feeling like they gotta go find something to do with their life even if they don’t have any expectations put upon them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that how boys feel?” Sam finished her plait and began another one. “Or is that how you felt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil sighed. “Both I guess. Don’t have much to compare myself to aside from those I’ve seen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen a lot,” he added. “But not everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel so...lost sometimes.” he trailed off. “My boys always looked up to me like I was the pinnacle of wisdom in their world. And to them, yeah, I guess I was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I never knew what I was doing.” he chuckled. “Still don’t. Still just trying to scrape by and keep them happy while barely knowing much about the world or myself or how I fit in it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno.” he shook his head. “I am, quite literally now, very lost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at Sam, her milky eyes regarding him with a soft smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But you, brave and adept from this day on . . . there’s hope that you will reach your goal . . . the journey that stirs you now is not far off.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she quoted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that from?” Phil asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A very, very old book.” Sam winked. “I’m sure Techno could tell you about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Philza’s gaze drifted back to the city, still unsure of what she had meant from the quote. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you arrive here?” he finally asked. “If you don’t mind my prying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed Sam tense for a moment and worried he might have struck a nerve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw what one part of the world wanted me for.” she said coldly. “And saw the other part that never wanted me at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms. “I had no part in it. I was brought into this world to serve a purpose I didn’t agree to, and when I freed myself the rest of the world viewed me with disdain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I came here, to make my own purpose.” Sam sighed. “No different than most of the women here, I refused to be another item in a noble’s collection or a tool for another’s destruction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They welcomed me with open arms.” she smiled gently. “My mothers and sisters and siblings, they didn’t care what I had been summoned for or what was expected of me, I wasn’t their tool. I was their daughter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I’m here.” her eyes glittered, little pearls of white within her pale face, now flushed pink from the sun. “The closest place someone like me could ever get to a ‘heaven’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza wasn’t sure how to respond to that, he hadn’t expected an answer. Certainly not one as heavy as this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Was all he could say as he placed a hand on hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For an odd moment, he felt locked in place, her eyes regarding him with...something. Something he couldn’t recognise. He felt a slight flush at the tips of his ears once more, there and gone in a blink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting sunburnt.” Sam laughed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. "For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain," - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur doesn't like these feelings he's getting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: description of infected wound, lancing of said wound, fever, terrible jokes, terrible flirting, the word 'sex' is said (NOTHING HAPPENS) shock from wounding, Wilbur is sad </p><p>(Another chapter for you! Moving today, posting this in the morning so you have something to read and speculate about and I have comments to look at in between unpacking at my new place. Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind comments! You guys make my day! :) I hope you have a good day.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh that’s vile.” Wilbur grimaced as he gagged down a piece of mouldy millet bread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had only taken three days for the mould to take hold in the bread, with the damp nature of the island and the recent rain as well, it didn’t take much for a fluffy carpet of blue to cover the small biscuits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Sally asked, scraping off bits of mould from another biscuit, placing it into one of the bowls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so.” Wilbur cringed. “Shit’s fucking gross.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chugged down a bowl of water to wash the taste from his mouth, coughing as he did. The fever still hadn’t let up. Sure there had been days when he was lucid, when he felt slightly better, but mostly he just felt sick. Hot, sweaty, achy, the works. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The infection in his wound wasn’t helping. The skin was sore and throbbed with a horrid ache at each breath. It looked terrible too, he realised as he undid the bandages about it. Swollen and red it weeped with a whitish fluid alongside the blood that seeped from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh…” he glanced up at Sally. “Don’t have anything sharp on you, do ya?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only my teeth.” Sally grinned, then frowned. “I’m not sucking the infection out of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew! Gods no!” Wilbur cringed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not biting it open for ya either.” Sally crossed her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! No! I wasn’t gonna suggest that!” Wilbur nearly gagged. “No, I just need something sharp to lance it, is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Sally glanced about the small shelter, shuffling towards the back before returning with what looked like a part of a large, metal nail. Clearly pulled from the wreckage they had used to build the place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s not rusty.” she held it out to him. “I can tie it to a stick and sterilise it in the fire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could also see about cauterising the wound a bit?” Wilbur suggested. “Or is it too late for that now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally shrugged. “No idea at this point. But you can at least lance it so there’s that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than nothing.” Wilbur sighed, wincing as he sat up closer to the fire, trying to stifle the rising anxiety in his chest at the thought of having to stab the nail into his wound. “You got the paste ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally nodded, holding up the bowl of mould. “Just give the word and I’ll pack ya full of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur snorted. “Gods your wording needs work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one making it weird.” Sally smirked as she tied a stick to the end of the nail, holding it over the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal, I could literally be dead in a few days.” Wilbur huffed. “And you’re making sex jokes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah,” she pulled the nail from the flames, inspecting it. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be dead in a few days. Gotta have a bit of fun, just in case-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused. “Did you just call me Sal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur swallowed, had he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said Sally.” he insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally scooted closer to him. “No, I heard Sal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur felt that stupid flush return. Damn the fever!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daw! Wilby!” Sally patted his cheek. “Did you give me a nickname?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not!” Wilbur snapped, pushing her hand aside. “And if I did it’s only cause you keep insisting on calling me fucking Wilby!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw!” Sally smiled. “I think it’s cute though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur scowled, turning his eyes away from her, gods if only the fever didn’t make his head feel so fuzzy! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Wilbur?” he felt Sally’s hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he finally looked back at her, back at those golden eyes. So full of life and mischief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So steely and full of concern now, he noted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deep breath.” she gripped his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely had a chance to inhale before he felt a stick shoved lengthwise between his teeth and a blinding pain in his side as Sally gouged the wound open with the nail. He shrieked, collapsing back to the ground, biting hard onto the stick, back arching in pain as he felt her draining the wound. The next few seconds were agony as she rinsed the wound clean of the puss, keeping his arms pinned beneath her, before packing it full of the paste they had made and binding it tightly in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what seemed like ages, he felt her remove the stick from his mouth, releasing his arms as she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur lay there, gasping, chest heaving as the shock began to set in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...bitch…” he choked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi!” Sally snapped. “None of that! I’m working my damndest to keep you alive here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur couldn’t respond, beginning to shiver as he felt a sudden chill seeping into his chest. He curled on his side, hugging his arms around him as he trembled, from fever or shock he couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just so cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold and miserable and useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt as if all his fears had suddenly crashed into him at that moment, as if the pain had finally snapped his mind and the floodgates of worry had opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods he was fucking useless! He couldn’t warn Phil in time all those days ago when Techno had woken him to the ambush. He couldn’t help either his brother or his father on board the ship, if anything he had just made it worse for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had kept his mouth shut, would Phil’s wings have been broken? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had held onto Phil’s hand longer in the storm, would they have been separated? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where were they now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not dead, surely, they couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t let himself think that. But...what had happened to them? Where were they? Were they alright? Were they hurt? Had they been recaptured? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh gods were they being sold someplace?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt tears prick at the edge of his eyes at the thought as he curled in on himself, shaking. The thought of Techno, chained up and suffering within his own mind, no one could understand what he had gone through as a child. No one would be able to understand him like Wilbur or Phil did. He’d be treated as less than human! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Phil, had he been broken? How much more would he be able to withstand before he was finally reduced to a compliant servant of whoever had bought him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur couldn’t stand those thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head violently, trying to think of something else. Anything else! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then he felt Sally’s hands on his shoulders, lightly rubbing circles against him as she hummed soothingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned into her hands and to his surprise, she pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his chest as she pressed her forehead to the back of his neck. Curling around his form until he felt the familiar knitting of his sweater, still around her, pressing against his bare back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for a while, Sally cuddled against him in an attempt to keep him warm. Wilbur didn’t bother to protest. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed Philza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Sally wasn’t them. But she was still comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, only that when he awoke it was morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft sunlight streamed into their hut, catching bits of the dusty smoke particles that still drifted lazily upwards from the now dying fire. Birdsong drifted in through the surrounding trees. The faint crashing of the shore some distance off created an almost lulling echo within the hut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur groaned, blinking in the morning sun. How long had he been out for this time? Had it been days again? Or just one night? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wound still ached, though far less than it had been. His fever was still there, though now it wasn’t nearly as miserable. His cough was still rattling within his lungs, but it hurt far less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stupid mould must be working, he told himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted, trying to sit up, only to feel an arm pull him back down. With a start, he realised Sally hadn’t moved from where she had fallen asleep beside him. Wilbur was stuck, uncertain what exactly to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt her shift a bit, her arms wrapping tighter about his chest as he felt her face burrow between his shoulder blades. Her soft breath sent the hairs on the back of his neck raising on end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flush returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made up his mind and shoved her off of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally rolled over groggily, her hands grasping about at the sudden movement before she bolted upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck!” her face went bright red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck I’m sorry!” she stammered as Wilbur scooted away from her towards the now dying fire. “You were shivering, I thought you were cold! I’m sorry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh-uh...it’s fine!” Wilbur turned away, hiding the growing flush in his own face. “It’s fine! Honestly!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fuck was wrong with him?! It wasn’t as if he had been around girls before. Hell it wasn’t as if he hadn’t slept with other girls before! Was he just losing it from the fever? He could always just blame that, except the fever had gone down significantly now. Was he just lonely? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That could be it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been away from Phil or Techno for this long. Ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was probably it, the lack of human contact, with only Sally as his one companion. That had to be it. It was nothing more than that, not even a crush, he was just lonely and hurt and traumatised from the last few weeks and desperate and- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feeling any better?” Sally asked him, breaking him from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur finally looked back at her, she had hugged her knees to her chest, tucking the edges of his sweater over her toes. The baggy thing was far too big for her, cocooning her into a ball that her head poked out of, her autumn hair trailing down about her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods she was cute like that- </span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He chided himself. He couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t right to think like that! She was just trying to help him! They were just friends! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But were they though? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long would they be stuck here? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long would they be each other's only companions? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur?” Sally blinked, her golden eyes flashing in concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Wilbur rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah I’m...I think I actually do feel a little better today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think that mould shit is working.” he tried to smile, attempting to hide whatever bit of blush was now doubt showing on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally only nodded, her face looked oddly distant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool...that’s good.” she stood, poking lightly at the ashes of the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Maybe...maybe if you’re up to it…” she trailed off, staring upwards into the trees. “You could come with me for a walk sometime?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...sure…” Wilbur answered hesitantly. “Sure, yeah, I can...I can do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods this was getting difficult. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not looking forward to working out his thoughts about this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. "And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery and Man!" - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno has a case of twin empathy on top of his already screwy trauma.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: phantom pains, PTSD flashbacks nearly triggered, implied child abuse </p><p>(Hey yall! Sorry it took so long for this update, moving was easy enough but university orientation week proved to be too much for me physically and I was too tired to do much of anything aside from sleep. Doesn't help that last night the country went back into a semi-lockdown cause of new cases of the rona cropping up again :| so I haven't been in much of a mood to write recently when I'm not completely exhausted. It may be awhile before I have time to update again, please be patient and once again, sorry for the wait. Thank you all so much for your lovely comments, they make my day! And thank you once again for reading, I hope you all have a pleasant day. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno screamed, jolting upright in his bed as he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his side. He instinctively grasped at the pain, but found nothing. No blood, no wound. And yet, the pain was still there, steadily throbbing as if he had just been sliced open by something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell back in his bed, gritting his teeth as he clutched at the pain in his side, fuming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods he did NOT need this! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears twitched as he heard the door to his room open, the scent of cinnamon flooded into his senses as the fumes of the kitchen’s morning preparations wafted through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still dark, the sun barely a thin, purple haze beyond the horizon in his window. But he could still tell Sam had entered the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright if I come in?” he heard her ask. “I heard you scream, are you hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno groaned, gingerly dragging himself back upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felt like I was stabbed.” he hissed, his hand still pressing to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” he saw Sam’s eyes widen slightly in concern as she knelt beside him. “May I see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pried his hand away from the pain, lifting his tunic aside for her to inspect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” the demon looked confused. “It’s the wrong side for your appendix, and I don’t see any scarring so I doubt it’s a case of nerve damage from an old wound.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mind if I touch you?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded. “It’s fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hissed as he felt her chilled hand press against his side, prodding the skin and poking slightly into the muscle, though, oddly he felt as if the pain was leaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does this hurt at all?” Sam pushed her hand further into his side, then pulled back, releasing the pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Odd.” Sam stood as he pulled his tunic back into place. “Well I’m honestly lost here, I’m sorry Techno.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like some willow tea?” she offered her hand. “Something to help with the pain for a bit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded, taking her hand as he stood. He couldn’t sleep now, not with the rough wake up call his body had just given him. There was no point in trying to force sleep on himself now, he was wired. And tea, just anything warm and soothing actually, sounded lovely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed her down the stairs but stayed in the hallway beside the kitchen rather than entering it, not wanting to experience the crowding and clattering sounds of the cooks and assistants rushing about, preparing for the day. He tapped his fingers against the wall, tracing a pattern his mind began to knit together across the patchy plaster. The pain in his side had subsided enough to be tolerable, though not invisible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno didn’t bother to acknowledge Sam as she returned, placing a mug of tea into his hands as he leaned back against the wall, sipping at the warm, comforting liquid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something’s wrong with me.” he finally said, bluntly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say that?” Sam crossed her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel wrong.” he took another sip of the tea. “Useless. I can’t get up to actually do anything most days. I can’t even write to Lucy and that doesn’t even require me to do much of anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared into the mug of tea, he felt bad he hadn’t responded to Lucy’s latest letter. He felt terrible that he had been avoiding visiting her at the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a short walk downstairs,” he snarled, frustrated at himself. “Why can’t I do it?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought that maybe you’re still not recovered from your time at sea?” Sam tilted her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re fine!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not fine…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sick…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sad…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurts…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There is no hurt!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No wounds! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not hurt! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine!” Techno snapped, flattening his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam seemed unfazed by the sudden reaction, still standing before him, arms crossed. Her milky eyes calm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heal fast.” he insisted. “I wasn’t hurt that bad, not as bad as Phil…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I shouldn’t have...I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not all wounds are physical, Techno.” Sam held a hand out towards his hair, asking permission to brush it aside from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let her, relaxing at her touch as she pulled a lock aside, beginning to comb through it with her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After an ordeal like what you and your family experienced,” she explained, slowly plaiting the lock of pink hair. “I would be surprised if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have some sort of wound to the soul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had heard that term before, hadn’t that girl said something similar on board the ship? Regarding Phil’s injured wings? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgets!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Always forgets…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Made to forget…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t want to remember…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Monsters hurt us! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt mama! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt us!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt so much…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.” he stated, pressing the mug to his chest, focusing on the warmth as his brain churned from the memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam tied off the end of the braid she had been working on, running her thumb across the fluff of pink on the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright if I ask you a few things about your first family?” she looked back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt his blood go cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t-I...I don’t-don’t….” he gripped the mug tightly in his clawed hands, flattening his ears as he felt a memory attempt to bubble to the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped.” Sam quickly added, placing a hand on his apologetically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t-I don’t like to…” Techno swallowed, pressing the mug to his forehead, clenching his eyes shut. Forcing his focus on the heat seeping into his head instead of the awful pattern of black and white checkerboard flickering at the edge of his vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like to think about it.” Fear chewed at the back of his mind, since when had his flashbacks begun to grow worse? They hadn’t been triggered this easily in so long! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They hurt us! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam has a point…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Has a point…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt us! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you considered your recent experiences might be causing old memories to resurface?” Sam’s gentle voice broke him from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered the mug, opening his eyes once more, watching as Sam’s thumb smoothed the ends of his braid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” Sam took another lock of his hair and began to plait it. “When you fill a cup full of tea, what happens when you don’t stop?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid question!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over fills.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid woman!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The mug overfills.” Techno ignored the rude comments of the voices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And burns your hand.” Sam added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, yes.” he nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you, Techno, to think of yourself as a mug.” Sam combed her fingers through his hair soothingly. “All of your pain, everything you have experienced thus far in your life, is boiling water.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the one who had been pouring in the water,” she explained. “But you can tolerate a certain amount. And you’ve done so incredibly well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However, right now,” she tied off the end of the new braid. “Too much has been poured in at once. Old things that have settled at the bottom have been stirred up to the surface. And it’s likely the water is going to spill over and burn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it isn’t already.” she added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt something welling up in his chest at those words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right, he realised. He didn’t know how she was right, how she knew, but she was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut and took her hand, pressing it against his cheek as he leaned into it, searching for comfort against the sharpness digging within his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s hard.” Sam’s thumb lightly brushed his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I know you may not be ready to let it out yet, but when you do,” He felt her press a light kiss to his forehead. “I promise, you’re safe here to do whatever it is you need to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno removed his hand from hers, wrapping it around her shoulders in a light hug as he sighed, feeling her hands lightly card through his hair comfortingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” he said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed this feeling, it was an old one. One he hadn’t felt in years. The feeling of a motherly touch against his hair, gently reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods…” he muttered. “If Phil doesn’t marry you I’m gonna be so pissed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam laughed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. "With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam is a terrible flirt as well.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: implied child abuse, references to past injury, horrific flirting I apologise it is so cringe. </p><p>(Sorry for the short chapter again, just gonna add this one into the line up real quick before I pass out for the day. Didn't sleep much after the level 2 lockdown was announced and I have to start study within a week, so there's probably gonna be a longer gap between uploads now and then. Thank you all for reading and for all of your kind comments, they seriously make my day! I hope you all hae a wonderful day, wear a mask, stay safe! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam huffed as she ground up a new set of herbs. That morning with Techno worried her, the poor boy was clearly suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated there wasn’t much she could do to help him. Sure she could provide him with a safe place to stay, she could offer him distractions from his pain, but she couldn’t stop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fumed inwardly at the memory of the chaffed bruise around his throat when she had found him. Philza had told her his own suspicions of the boy’s previous family, from what he had gathered from Techno’s behaviour throughout the years. The events of the bounty hunter’s ship would have surely resurfaced those old traumas. She wished there was some way to stop his pain, she hated feeling so helpless but she knew that there really wasn’t much she could do aside from what she was already doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Providing him safety, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a quiet place to work through his thoughts, distractions for his hands, she was doing everything right, she told herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still didn’t feel enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam measured out a few spoonfuls of the herbs. Some fennel, some dandelion, a sprig of lavender. She grinned wickedly at the mixture as she placed them into a small cauldron, watching as the herbs bloomed into a gentle brew. Would that fool of a witch catch on to the clues she had sprinkled in this time? She wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had almost -almost!- caught her intentions with the yarrow some time ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was fun, she chuckled to herself, so much to tease and confuse. His own teasing responses were a joy to witness, though she’d never admit that aloud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had started as a mere game, a little jesting here and there to take his mind off of things. But now, she wasn’t too sure. She wasn’t conflicted about it, surprisingly. The game had grown more intense with time and yet, it didn’t bother her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anything, she was pleased with where it was leading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After seeing such devotion to his sons, such love, she had made up her mind. She would continue down this path until she was allowed to add to that love herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam only hoped he’d continue the chase until she could catch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She poured out a few mugs of the brew and carried them from the kitchen to the balcony she had asked Philza to meet her at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sunning his wings -gods they looked so soft!- when she met him, handing him a mug before sitting beside him at the small table. His hands were still shaky, she noticed, but his grip was growing stronger, that was good. He had even managed to plait his own hair, the golden locks were tied back at the nape of his neck in a simple braid, not too dissimilar to how she had done them up a few days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pointed tips of his ears, poking out from the edges of his hair, grew a slight tinge of pink as he smiled at her. It was absolutely adorable, she thought, that a grown man would blush at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look well.” she brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, letting her fingertips linger a bit on the smooth skin. Could she make him blush just a bit more? She wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fresh air will do that to you, I suppose.” Philza caught her hand, countering her attempt with a slight rub of his thumb against her palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fiend!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She smiled, taking a sip of her tea as she pulled away, watching as his blue eyes followed her hand, almost sorrowfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ploy was working. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Physically,” Philza shifted his gaze towards the city. “Still sore, but that’s nothing new. Wings still hurt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one you worked on though,” he smiled as he extended the feathered limb, flexing it slightly. The dark feathers caught the sun, flashing bits of blues and greens in the under-layer of the quills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feels almost normal again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled as Phil gave the wing an experimental flap, sending a small gust of wind fluttering through their hair. The new pin feathers, growing in place of the plucked flight feathers, still small and in their spine-like phase of growth, gave a little rattle at the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she wouldn’t give to finally see those wings fully healed to their previous splendor! Sam could only imagine how they must have looked not too long ago, shining and sleek in the sunlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered, if only briefly, what it must feel like to be hugged by those wings? Surrounded by their soft warmth on all sides as she played with his hair on a chill, winter evening? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s the tea?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Gods if he still didn’t catch on to her hints she would be disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza took another sip, then eyed her curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not...what I would have expected…” he grinned slyly. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was starting to get her hints. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” she smiled, crossing a leg and leaning on her hand. “Would you prefer if I made it sweeter for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt a rush of  pride at her success when she felt his hand on her knee as he leaned closer to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s sweet enough as it is.” he grinned, reaching up to her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze, she hadn’t expected that, was he trying to fluster her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost hissed as instead of touching her face, he removed a stray leaf from her hair, chuckling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that for?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam caught the underlying slyness of tone in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ooh you’re good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She took another sip of tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was what for?” she blinked innocently, if he answered honestly, she’d have him cornered. If he admitted he’d been looking to fluster her, she’d have caught him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The comment about the tea.” Philza shrugged, the pink in ears faded. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh gods dammit!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’d won this round, avoiding the question entirely, turning it all back on her now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, she thought, it wasn’t as though she liked him for nothing, the cheeky witch! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t too certain whether you’d prefer that taste or not.” she shrugged. “Thought you might need to soften the flavours a bit with some sweetness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard him laugh. “I can handle some bitterness now and then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though if I’m honest,” he added. “I prefer a bit of spice to sweet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh….!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She filed that down for later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave his hand, still on her knee, a little touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then,” she watched as his ears flushed pink again, though his face remained calm. “It seems you feel well enough to possibly try another form of rehabilitation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Philza grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lightly removed his hand from her knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is your grip strength?” she asked, watching as the flush disappeared, as if disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave his fingers a slight flex. “Shaky, but decent enough, why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it,” Sam stood, smoothing her robes back into place. “I would like to see if you can hold a sword.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed perplexed, she’d won again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. "The melancholy joys of evils pass'd," - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sally is not exactly happy about her situation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: brief mentions of drowning and a wound but nothing graphic </p><p>(Hey yalls! New update! Orientation week is finally over and level 2 lockdown has been moved to level 1! So I can actually go to class and don't have to leave the dorm to go back home -please don't jinx it- I've finally had enough time to finish some more chapters so here's the latest update! I'm still so tired from all the social interactions I've been having but it's nice to be able to see friends again. How are you all doing? I've made friends with the dorm's dog and have grown my collection of plants with a new plant child. Thank you for reading, I hope you all have a wonderful day. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally picked at the edges of the sweater around her. It was getting itchy. The dried saltwater, the dirt, the sand, the sweat, all caked about it had ruined it’s once golden colour. And made the texture a disgusting crunching sensation around her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew.” she cringed, flicking off a dried chunk of mud. And possibly blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as though she had anything else to wear though. She wasn’t lying when she had sacrificed most of her dress to be used as a bandage for Wilbur’s wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at where he lay within the hut, curled on his side near the fire, his arms and legs tucked up against his chest, his head burrowed within his elbows. Fluffy brown hair, in desperate need of a wash, poked out from where head buried his face within his arms in an attempt to block out the sunlight of the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally grinned. He looked kinda cute like that, all curled up and tucked in on himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur gave a faint moan of pain as he shifted in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally winced at the sound, chiding herself inwardly. Here she was staring at a boy she’d hardly known for more than a week, thinking he was cute, when he was clearly struggling for his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking idiot!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She angrily poked at the now dying fire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t even know him! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just why had she bothered to rescue him? She wondered. He was human, one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, one of the very people who had captured her in the first place! The only reason she’d been so ‘friendly’ towards him was because it would be easier to escape with an ally than on her own. The corvid hybrid was clearly too weak and the boar, well, not much he could have done all chained up like that. So she had allied with the human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, she should have just left him. It wasn’t as if a simple storm could kill her -she smirked, water would never kill her- she could have just let him drown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet she hadn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally’s eyes drifted back to the boy, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She felt a twinge of regret, she’d only flirted with him to get him on her side, why was she still leading him on? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why hadn’t she just let the stupid boy drown?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had just let him go, if she hadn’t rescued him, she wouldn’t be pretending to be stuck here on this fucking island with him! She could be back on the mainland by now! Or better, hiding, forgotten in the sea where no one would ever find her again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet….when she had seen the fear across his face at the sight of his wounded father, when she had seen his hand gently soothing the man’s pain, when she had later seen that man desperately trying to hold onto him as a wave knocked them apart...when she had seen the boy drifting lifeless in the darkened sea...something had happened to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated it. She hated that stupid twisting in her gut whenever she heard his cries of pain, she hated the sense of relief she felt each time he opened his eyes, she hated the pity she felt for him! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stupid laugh, his stupid smile, his stupid chocolatey brown eyes! She hated how she felt around him! The way he made her want to laugh, the way his smile made her heart flutter, the way he talked about his family that made her want to hold him, pet his hair, tell him everything was going to be alright- she nearly puked at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How dare he get under her skin?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a human! A gods damned human! The same as the people who had caused her so much grief and pain throughout her life, he was one of them! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to feel this way towards him, anyone like him, any of his kind! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally fumed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did feel this way, she did rescue him. She had every chance to let drown, let him bleed out from his wound, let the infection take hold of him. She had every chance to let him die. And yet here she was, worried for his life, caring for this boy she barely knew for a few weeks as if they had been friends for years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A horrible thought struck her at that revelation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if...what if they could be friends though? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been so lonely, constantly on the run, constantly hiding, she’d not had a friend in years. Maybe, having a friend wouldn’t be so bad? And it wasn’t as if he was like other humans, he had been so kind to the other two hybrids...he had even blushed at her own fake attempts at flirting...were they fake though? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally shook her head. This was so stupid! So fucking stupid! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scooched herself closer to him, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder, lightly stroking the bare skin to wake him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning sunshine!” she grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked weakly. “...five more minutes…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh uh.” she grinned wickedly at his yelp as she pinched him. “You promised you’d go for a walk with me today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on! Up!” she looped her arms across his chest, gently dragging him to his feet, laughing at his protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too early!” he groaned. “Don’t wanna!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you’re gonna.” Sally chuckled. “If you want dinner tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puffed up a bit in pride at her accomplishment as Wilbur pulled away, relenting to her request as he sighed and began to limp his way towards the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kept pace easily, he was still half asleep anyhow, not to mention still sore from his wound. It wasn’t long before they had reached the shore. Sally dug her feet into the sand, sighing at the wonderfully soft grains that flowed across her skin. She glanced over at Wilbur, the boy seemed to finally be waking up a bit more, though he clearly did not share her feelings towards the beach. As was evidenced by his scowl and a quick jump to the side as a wave splashed up around his ankles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like water?” Sally grinned evilly as she splashed a bit of the water towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not after nearly drowning, no.” Wilbur crossed his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s a shame.” Sally dug her feet further into the now muddy sand beneath her. “Was planning on going swimming later, thought it would be more fun to have someone join me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw the boy’s ears go bright red as he turned away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And considering you’re the only one here,” Sally shrugged. “Oh well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was that so fun? Watching his face go pink at the suggestions she made? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as if this was ever going to go anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe friendship. At least.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She could settle for friendship, she decided as she laughed at the brunette jumping away from another wave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dick!” he shouted at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> be!” she chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, maybe this wasn’t so bad. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. "For he who much has suffer'd, much will know." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucy is dealing with conflicting feelings towards a certain, melancholic, pink haired boy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: mentions of past trauma, depictions of post death grief/depression </p><p>(First week of classes done! Sort of, I'm still waiting for a missed lecture to be put up on stream so i can take notes and I still don't know how to use the university printers for printing out my online readings but I'll get there. It's been slow writing, sorry about that. Country dropped back into Level 2 once again cause SOMEONE didn't wear a MASK on the BUS. -I'm salty about that- Still can actually go places but we gotta be extra careful about wearing masks in public and hand washing and stuff. Am also starting to feel the effects of fresher flu so that's uh...not promising. But other than that, first week of classes was pretty successful! <br/>Not gonna lie, I kinda feel weird about this chapter. Writing crushes is weird. Romance is weird. Why am I doing this again? I don't know. It's fun but it's weird, you feel me? <br/>Anywho, thank you so much for being patient and thank you for reading again today! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lucy fiddled with edges of the letter on her lap, reading it for possibly the fifteenth time that day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in the library for some time, I’ve not been well. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not hurt, but I feel pain sometimes, for no reason that I can fully understand. I feel sick and tired and I don’t know how to manage it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I really don’t want to be seen like this, I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I will try to visit you sometime when I’m feeling better. I’ve been seen by Sam, she says I should take my time to figure out what it is I need to combat this, and at the moment I need to be alone for a while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not sure. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know. I’m so confused. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgive me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Techno</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew what he felt. Sort of. She knew similar feelings to what he felt. It was horrendously difficult to describe, not even she could fully explain it herself. But she understood his pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having lost his brother, his twin no less, and having witnessed what he had, having suffered what he had, she wasn’t surprised he felt this way. She was only surprised it took this long for the pain to manifest within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered when she had first arrived here, scared and lost, not hurt physically but still wounded by what she had witnessed. The stares she was given, the pain in her chest she felt at each eye that glared into her soul, the feeling of doubt and worry and fear gnawing within her. It was awful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew the only way she was able to combat it was with the help of Sam, working out a way to communicate with the demon healer had been her first step to explaining what was wrong. Finding a place where she felt safest was the next, and finally, allowing herself time to process her grief had been the third. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t an instant fix, there was no such thing. But it was helpful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the years of living here she had learned what it was she needed. The blindfold to keep herself from accidentally making eye contact, keeping her from being overwhelmed by the sudden, horrid, indescribable fear she felt as she connected with another's soul. The job in the library transcribing and translating books, a quiet job in a peaceful location without the stress of others crowding her throughout the day. The little house in the forest where she could plant her gardens away from the bustle of the main city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice that Sam and some of the others had been able to suggest all of that, as well as accommodate for her needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice that Techno seemed to have caught on to her needs as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice that there was someone who understood her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hugged the letter to herself, she hoped he’d be alright. She’d only met him in person twice, three times if she counted the encounter at the beach. Her second meeting had been less than...successful? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had scared her the first two times, she had to admit. Seeing him chained up and bleeding on the beach, then later, snarling and wielding a blade in her direction, but worry on her part had proved to be stronger than her fear. And in the end, once she had written to him, she discovered he was actually rather sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shy yes, but so was she. Terrifying in her first two meetings, but he had apologised and shown his gentleness in his responses to her letters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many times had others seen her as terrifying only to realise she really just wanted to be left alone? How many times had she been seen as terrifying when she needed a friend? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy hugged the letter to her chest. She hoped he would be alright, she had only just met him and now he was so hurt- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nearly jumped, a startled gurgle emanating from her throat as Sam appeared in the corner of her vision, lighting a lantern within the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a few more books to transcribe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy held out her journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Sam stated. “I take it you’ll want the lanterns for a bit longer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t overwork yourself, love.” Sam gave her a light pat on the shoulder before leaving the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy turned back to her work, tucking her skirt about her feet as she settled into the pile of blankets by the desk. There was no chair tall enough to accommodate her legs but she had no problem with lounging in a pile of pillows and rugs. She preferred it actually. It was far more comfortable than sitting at the desk all day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued her work, every now and then glancing back at the letter she had placed beside her, frowning in worry. It was hard to focus on her tasks like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually sleep began to wear at her eyes and she stood, rubbing her face and making her way to the kitchens to gather some tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as she was turning to leave, a pot of the brew in hand, that she nearly stumbled into a familiar, pink haired young man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy chirped, startled as Techno flinched back reactively before quickly stammering out an apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Sorry!” he looked down at his feet. “I didn’t- I...fuck.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy glanced about, uncertain exactly of what to do. She hadn’t seen him days, and after his latest letter, she’d worried she wouldn’t see him for some time yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have come down for some tea himself, she thought. Seeing as he was in his room all day she wasn’t surprised he would only be coming out at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly, awkwardly set the tea onto the floor to free up her hands, scratching out into her journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you okay?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked, almost smiling before putting a hand to his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...no…” he said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you like to sit with me in the library?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t have to talk, you can have some of my tea. I’m going to be up for awhile, I have a lot of books to work on.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night saw the two of them at the desk, Lucy working tirelessly to copy the old books she had been given into a new set of parchment. Techno sitting opposite her, attempting to read but eventually settling to just watching her pen as it neatly wrote out a new copy of the manuscripts she worked on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched as his glittery, ruby eyes traced back and forth in time with her pen. She felt something flutter in her chest at the sight. His pink hair strewn about him, his tunic sliding partly off his shoulder. His pale skin, striped with pinkish scars beneath the cloth, reflecting the gold of the lantern light as his eyes began to droop sleepily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t lie to herself, he was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head at that thought, <em>Stupid! Stupid! No!</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouldn’t think about him! Not when he was so hurt like this, not when he clearly wanted nothing to do with that sort of affection. Not that she could ever give that to him anyhow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to think like that when she had just wanted to be his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart nearly stuttered as he suddenly buried his face in his arms against the desk, shaking. She heard his voice, broken and stammering, between a faint whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he- was he crying? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy reached her hand out, then withdrew, uncertain if that was something he was alright with. She was startled when he suddenly looked up, his eyes thankfully cast away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, can…” he trailed off, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I sit next to you?” he finally asked. “Please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy quickly scooted to the side, patting at the pile of pillows for him. Techno slowly, almost painfully, dragged himself beside her. Finally curling up with his back pressed beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt her heart twist as she felt him shudder as he sobbed himself to sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. "A beloved, honoured friend, but it’s been so long, your visits much too rare. " - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Phil and Sam have a little flirting session that quickly turns to introspection.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: tendonitis mentioned, terrible terrible flirting</p><p>[Me: (flashbacks to when a 2 litre coke bottle landed on my wrist and I couldn't grab things for a whole month) Ooh! I can use that! </p><p>Hey guys! Another upload! Finally! Sorry for the wait, writing is going slow and I've kind of hit a roadblock with some later chapters but its all good...I'll figure it out, it's fine....we're back at level 1 again and hopefully it'll stay that way for awhile. I have to read sooooo much for this course I'm so tired. Taming of the Shrew is a terrible shakespeare play. Twelfth Night is hilarious. W.H Auden used to ominously lock himself and a friend in a dark room with only one light and ask questions about philosphy and poetry like a pretentious, dark academia aesthetic jerk and I kinda love him. Abstract art was created as an anarchist way to rebel against fascisism. And the word 'jug' is victorian slang for fuck. That is the extent of my knowledge of the past few weeks of uni. <br/>Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you all have a good day! :) ]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Philza curled his hand around the hilt of the familiar weapon, settling his fingers into their usual placements around the leather bound handle before giving the sword an experimental twirl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wrist shook slightly, his grip faltered, but the weapon remained within his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have to work on that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it feel?” Sam was leaning against a pillar within the sparring hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had shown the place to him earlier that morning; a large, repurposed old world building attached to a smithy. A sand filled fighting ring was placed directly in the centre of the building, illuminated by a series of open air windows above with a set of collapsible sails to shield the ring from rain. Surrounding that was a series of obstacles, ropes courses, climbing walls, all for the set purpose of sparring practice within a complex terrain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had explained to him earlier about the guardians of the island having built the place to practice, protecting the shores from invaders. Though when not in use by the guardswomen, the sparring building and adjoining smithy was more or less used for hobby work. Fencing, swordplay, the craft of creating fine weaponry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza was thoroughly impressed by the blade he’d been given. Sure it wasn’t live, the blade dulled for the purpose of practice rather than actual fighting, but it was weighted beautifully. Forged to perfection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sword?” he asked. “Or my grip?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both.” Sam smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave the sword another twirl within his hand, his grasp stronger this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sword’s well made.” he ran a finger along the blade. “My hands are still shaky though. I’d be insulting it if I tried to ever wield it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s why we’re here, are we not?” Sam stepped up before him, placing a hand on his, inspecting his grip on the sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can relax your fingers you know, don’t have to white knuckle the handle all the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like you think I don’t know what I’m doing?” Philza chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Sam grinned wickedly, before giving his hand a light slap, nearly knocking the sword from his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil fumbled slightly as he almost lost his grip on the sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps not.” he returned the grin, giving his sore hand a light shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re overcompensating in your middle and fore fingers.” Sam’s smile faded as her expression returned to her usual stoic, doctorly self. “So, I would suspect you might have some damage done to your thumbs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held her hands out. “Put the sword down for a bit, let me have a look.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil complied, sheathing the blade and returning it to its stand before setting his hands in hers, watching as she turned them this way and that. Rotating his thumbs, prodding at the tendons in his palms, bending his wrists. Until he felt a throbbing ache at the base of his thumb. He flinched, hissing as the pain hit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, there’s the problem.” Sam pressed her forefinger against the base of his thumb, where it connected to his wrist, lightly massaging at the reddened welt left by the shackles some time ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your diagnosis?” Phil asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tendonitis.” Sam stated, motioning him to sit down on a nearby bench. “It’s not bad enough to be permanent, so long as it’s taken care of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your suggested treatment?” Philza sat down, Sam joining him at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh absolutely tragic. Have to cut your hand off.” she joked. “Holding it still for a while, perhaps a few weeks, but keep working at it every day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil winced as she pressed her thumb into his wrist, dragging it across his skin and into his palm before repeating the motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow.” he chuckled. “By working at it you mean like this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid so.” Sam dug her knuckles into his palm, causing him to squirm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too much?” she grinned evilly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You demon.” he returned the grin, noting that she did lessen the pressure on his hand, despite the evil gleam in her eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found Techno in the library again this morning.” Sam continued to massage his wrist. “With Lucy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s... good?” Phil was surprised. “It’s good to see he’s making friends. He’s always struggled with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a pit form in his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I think I may have contributed to that, unfortunately.” he admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” Sam tilted her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza closed his eyes, sighing as he felt her hands continuing to work their way around his wrist. It hurt less now, it was actually rather pleasant, stretching out the disused muscles and soothing the irritated tendons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never stayed in one place for too long.” he explained. “Always moving, stopping here and there to gain some coin, assist in some way if it was needed, gather supplies. The usual wandering fare- Ah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, wincing as Sam pressed a bit too hard on his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” she slowed her pace. “Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Phil nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Was that payback for yesterday’s teasing?” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh so you admit it?” Sam chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza felt his ears turn red. He no longer bothered to stifle it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing wrong with that, for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.” he winked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” he continued his original train of thought. “With the constant wandering, never settling, it was hard for the boys to really get to make any friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur…” he trailed off a bit as he felt a knot forming in his throat. “Made a few friends we tried to keep in touch with, sending letters when we could. But Techno…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knot only grew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I may have scared him.” he said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Sam slow her pace. “How do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I taught him how to defend himself from pretty much everyone,” he explained. “But never taught him how to be friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He nearly died, so many times, from so many...awful people.” Phil swallowed at the knot forming in his throat at the memory of Techno, so small and frightened, when he had found him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent so much time trying to protect him, teaching him how to defend himself,” he gripped Sam’s hand. “I think I made him think the entire world was out to kill him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, a lot of them were-are... but,” he sighed. “There’s still plenty who are just normal, decent people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I worry he might not think that, because of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Sam’s hands lightly pull him closer to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand your point.” she said softly, thumbing at his palms. “But I think you did what was necessary for his environment at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now that he’s here,” Philza felt her chilled breath on his forehead. “He can open up more, and you can relax a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a sharp jolt of...something, he wasn’t sure what...shoot through him as her lips pressed against his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice though, he smiled as she pulled away, gazing into her glittery white eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a very unprofessional doctor,” he tsked. “Kissing your patient?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather I not?” Sam cocked her head to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza chuckled. Gods she was a time! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fun little distraction, Sung.” he placed a hand beneath her chin, tilting her head upwards towards his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be getting ahead of yourself.” he winked, lacing his tone with sarcasm. He could play this game of hers, hell he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to continue playing the game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re a cheeky little witch.” Sam lightly tapped the end of his nose with a cold finger. “I think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> who needs to reign himself in a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took his hands away from her face and stood, removing herself from the implied game as her stoic expression returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A distraction I may be,” she stated. “But don’t get too caught up in this, Philza.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was true, Philza reminded himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Sam was fun, he couldn’t escape what had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was still dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was still healing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still hurting from it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” he sighed. “I know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was actually something that had been troubling him for some time now, was he only entertaining this game with Sam because he was genuinely interested? Or because he was trying to stifle the pain? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if it was the latter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did Techno look this morning?” he asked. If he was to know his reasons for playing the game, he should start with his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exhausted.” Sam shook her head. “I’m worried for him, as far as I can tell he hasn’t been processing what has happened to him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s never known a life without Wil.” the knot in Philza’s throat returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t properly processed that himself, he realised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still needed to mourn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to snap soon.” Sam added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Phil rubbed a hand across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you prepared for that?” Sam asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a weak chuckle. “Never have been, never thought I would be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled his hand away from his face, damp with tears as his eyes began to water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to…” he trailed off, leaning against Sam’s arm as she patted his shoulder soothingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to find some flowers.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. "Sleepest thou sorrowing Penelope?" -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur finally begins to recognise his feelings for Sally.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: brief mention of a healing wound, dick jokes, Wilbur has fEeLiNgS?! </p><p>Hi yalls! Sorry again for the wait, I finally got another chapter written- not really, I'm halfway through writing it and it's driving me crazy!- so I decided to post one of the chapters I've finished. It's been nearly four weeks since I moved out into a dorm but it feels like it's only been one and it's weird....I like it but I miss my cats. :( They're my writing buddies and keep me motivated and while hoarding plants is nice, you can't exactly pet a cactus. Well, you can, but it's not very pleasant. Not like a cat. Look I just miss my cats. <br/>Thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful day! And thank you all so much for the feedback and comments! It's honestly keeping me going and motivated write more. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t made that dick.” Wilbur elbowed Sally’s arm playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still weak, his wound still ached, but his fever had finally ended and his cough wasn’t nearly as frequent anymore. He had even begun to join Sally on her morning walks on days that he felt well enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl snorted, rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fiiiiiiiine.” she huffed. “But I’m not making it that stupid temple.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not stupid!” Wilbur scoffed mockingly. “The poor thing needs a home!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it a home.” Sally dropped a pile of clay in front of him. “If you’re so obsessed with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were the one who started it.” Wilbur muttered, beginning to shape a tiny hut out of the clay anyhow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aside from making tiny clay dicks,” he smirked. “What are your plans for today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally sat back on her heels, blowing a lock of autumn hair from her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh...dunno.” she scratched at her ear. “We got water, we got mouldy bread, you’re looking a hell of a lot better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably fishing?” she shrugged. “I’ve got that covered though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything you want me to do then?” Wilbur offered, hoping to be able to do something. He hated how useless he had been for so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me make it up to you for lying around coughing my lungs out while you did all the work?” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as Sally chewed at the end of her dirt encrusted nails, thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figure out how to get yourself a bath I guess.” she grinned at him. “You smell like shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur chuckled. “You don’t smell like flowers yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, how?” he questioned. “The spring is too small to really wash up in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, fair point.” Sally shrugged. “Maybe just your clothes then, use one of the larger bowls or dig a pit or something, rinse out some of that blood and salt or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to clean his trousers, Wilbur noted. They were still caked with sand and dried saltwater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And dirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah…</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. They needed a wash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll work on that then while you fish.” he offered. “And I’ll go take a super long walk so you can use the water later and not have to worry about seeing me or me seeing you and shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or,” Sally countered, flinging a bit of still wet clay from her hands and onto his arm. “You could help me make a net?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could do that too.” Wilbur agreed. “Though, are you only suggesting that cause you’re worried I might try to be a gross perv?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Sally clicked her tongue before eyeing him suspiciously. “You are obsessed with making sure the little dick army has a house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur held his hands up in defeat. “You have me there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except I promise,” he added. “I wouldn’t be a perv.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I know you wouldn’t.” Sally held up one of the little statues she had made, before crushing it emphatically within her hand. “Cause I’d kill you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur felt his heart stammer a moment at the implied threat, though his stupid ears began to feel hot as a flush crept its way up his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Message received.” he backed away. “But still, my promise stands, I won’t look.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her cautiously as she stood, giving him a wink before skipping off to the beach to hunt their dinner. Only pausing to call out “There’s reeds on the other end of the beach!” before disappearing from view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur took his cue and set the little, house shaped blob of clay he’d been working on by the fire, before making his way towards where Sally had instructed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was getting easier to walk now, he noticed. He still had to pause now and then to cough or catch his breath. He still limped as his leg tugged against the muscle that had been punctured in his side. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would leave a nasty scar though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, he smirked, he could finally beat Techno for the worst looking scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...if he ever saw him again, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shook his head. No, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> see him again. He knew he would. He knew he would find Philza and Techno, or they would find him, or something would bring them together again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt so...so empty. Not having his brother by his side at night. Not having Phil’s gentle voice, not having Tech’s playful insults, not having <em>them</em>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure he felt distant from them, more than he cared to admit. Phil had spent a lot of time with Techno, teaching him to fight, helping him with the voices that plagued his mind. The voices that not even Wilbur could begin to understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno never accompanied Wilbur into the cities to make friends, Philza would often take off to go search through ruins at rather inopportune moments. But still, at the end of the day, they were always there. Talking about the day’s events, laughing at each other's mishaps, falling asleep beside one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt so hollow, being without them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur finally reached the location Sally had told him about, a slightly marshy area full of mud and reeds. If it weren’t for the obviously brackish water, it would have made for another good water source. As it was, it still provided a decent amount of clay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And soon, Wilbur thought, net materials. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent the afternoon uprooting thin reeds, rinsing and weaving them together into a rather stiff but still functional net - he had Phil to thank for that knowledge- and eventually even catching a few crabs hidden within the mud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully Sally would appreciate his efforts to provide some of the dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was skewering a freshly dead eel onto a sharpened stick when he returned. Two other fish were already leaned over the fire, roasting deliciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s mouth watered at the site, since when had fish tasted so damn good?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Sal!” he held up the net he had made as he neared their camp. “Guess what I got?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A surprisingly functional net?” Sally sat back on her heels, stabbing the end of the eel stick into the ground beside the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Wilbur scowled, sitting down beside her. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> incompetent!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned as she smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I also got these!” He dumped the net full of crabs into a bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally’s eyes went wide at the sight of four, fat crabs trying to clamber over each other to escape the bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to cook them though.” Wilbur admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally snorted. “My gods Wilby! I tell you to just go make a net and you come home with crabs!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft!” Wilbur caught onto the joke, wincing as he laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening was spent with Sally showing him how to cook the crabs as the two of them gnawed on the roasted fish and eel. Laughing occasionally as the stupid crab joke was brought up every now and then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As dusk rolled in across the island and a dark chill settled into their bones, the two curled up closer to the fire, back to back for warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t quite like Philza or Techno, Wilbur thought, but it was still nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least it would be if it weren’t for that stupid flush that kept returning to his cheeks! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hissed inwardly. He knew now it wasn’t the fever causing this. Hell, it probably wasn’t even his loneliness! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The images of her lips pressed against his, breathing life back into him all those days ago. The sensation of her arms around his chest. The feeling of her now, pressed against his back, warming his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely knew her! He shouldn’t feel like this! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were just friends! Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely knew her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Sal?” he nudged her with an elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” her voice was sleepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your favourite colour?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckled. “You’re asking now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured we need something to talk about aside from surviving, you know?” Wilbur shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aside from planning out the dick temple.” Sally added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “That too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” Wilbur sighed. “I dunno. I guess…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He guessed? The hell did he guess?! It was obvious at this point what he felt, what he wanted from this relationship -oh gods it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a relationship wasn’t it!- he just...wasn’t ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess, since we’re stuck here,” he finally began to admit what had been plaguing him. “We should probably get to know each other a bit more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” He felt Sally shift a bit beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blue.” she finally said. “I think my favourite colour is blue. Sort of a light teal shade of blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blue also.” Wilbur admitted. “But more of a darker blue, like, I guess…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, the sky right after sunset kind of blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty.” Sally’s voice seemed distant for a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment there was only awkward silence, the faint rush of the sea outside the only sound to alter the stillness within the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was warm in the hut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Wilby?” Sally rolled over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Wilbur followed suit, now facing her beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her golden eyes flickered softly within the firelight, her autumn hair fell in tangled locks about her face. The silver patches of skin near her cheeks and wrists had seemed to morph to an almost patchy, red and green pattern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably a trait of her hybrid genes, Wilbur thought. He still had no idea what she could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hypothetically speaking,” Sally placed an arm under her chin, regarding him with her glittery golden eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ask your favourite colour and you now want to get all deep and philosophical on me?” Wilbur chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we are going to be here awhile.” Sally flashed her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So hypothetically speaking,” she continued. “If you had the ability to leave the island, at any time, and our roles were reversed, and I was the one who was injured…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you have left me here?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hell kind of a question was that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No of course not!” Wilbur shook his head. “Why would I do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, if I wasn’t injured then,” Sally continued. “And you still had the ability to leave anytime you wanted but couldn’t take me with you, would you still leave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Wilbur insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was getting oddly specific. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Sally’s eyes narrowed. “Because I’m a girl? Because you pity me? Because-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you're a person! Gods why is that so hard to understand?” Wilbur finally snapped. “Hybrid, human, girl, guy, anywhere in-between, I don’t give a fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled onto his elbows, glaring at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t just leave a person on an island in the middle of fuck all nowhere!” Wilbur hissed. “Because you don’t do that kind of thing! You just don’t!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, if you were the dickhead that hurt my dad,” he added. “Then yeah, I’d leave you stranded in a heartbeat. If I didn’t kill you first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not.” he huffed, softening his voice. “I know I don’t know you that well but even if I hadn’t seen how you helped me in these past weeks, I still wouldn’t abandon you. Or anyone for that matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one deserves to be forgotten like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Sally smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except for the scarred bastard on that ship.” she smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, except him.” Wilbur heartily agreed. “Fuck that guy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard man.” Sally nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piss baby.” Wilbur added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit eating bitch face.” Sally smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turd munching, ball-less piss stain.” Wilbur snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two continued to throw insult ideas until late into the night, when they finally began to nod off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blearily rubbed at his eyes as he started to drift off, Sally had already begun to snore quietly beside him. Gods she was fucking cute! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated to admit it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was going to be here for...well...a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That question she had asked him though, that bothered him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so, oddly specific. Maybe he was just imagining things, but it almost sounded as if she had been admitting something to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had she thought about leaving him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t blame her. He’d been a liability since before they had even landed on the island. And from what he could piece together about her from their previous talks, she must have had a rather terrible experience with other humans like him. The more he thought about it, she really had no reason to help him, let alone stay with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If what he had suspected of her swimming skills, her hybrid abilities during that storm, she probably had the chance to leave him whenever she wanted. And she had every reason to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, she didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, curling up on his side beside her. Whether or not he was thinking too far into her question, it didn’t matter now. She had stayed, she had helped him, and he owed her his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for not leaving me.” he muttered as he finally drifted off to sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. "Let the trial come." - Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno breaks.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: graphic depictions of audio/visual hallucinations that include vomit, blood, dead bodies, drowning, torture, and child abuse. Depictions of audio hallucinations that tell Techno drown himself. Depictions of PTSD from childhood abuse. Depictions of depression and grief. Panic attacks. </p><p>(This is a rough one. I'm sorry. Feel free to skip this one. The next chapter will be much lighter I promise.) </p><p>I got another chapter done! So I'm posting this one today to leave you all on a cliffhanger cause I'm mean. but seriously, thank you all so much for reading and leaving comments! I'm probably going to be taking a longer break than usual to make sure I'm completely caught up with all my homework before the end of the week so sorry if I don't upload the same time next week. <br/>Again, thank you all so much for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forget!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep forgetting…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should have drowned…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Disappointment! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t save him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Phil hates you! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HATES YOU!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Philza hates you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HATES YOU!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shook his head. He hated that new voice. Not so much what it said, though that still stung whenever he heard it, but more who it sounded like. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hates you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t save him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PHILZA HATES YOU!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Disappointment! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HATE YOU!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Techno dug through his pockets until he found the little ball of yarn Sam had given him, beginning to weave the thread about his fingers as he made his way to the library.</span> <span>Desperately trying to settle the voices before seeing his friend. </span></p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want Lucy to see him like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell! He’d been avoiding Phil for so long </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> he didn’t want to be seen like this. His father had endured enough, he told himself. Seeing him struggle and knowing there was nothing he could do would only make the man’s healing worse. It was one of the reasons he had decided against going to the funeral ritual Phil had proposed. Techno didn’t dare to attend something of the sort, not now, not when he was as unready and confused as he was. He didn’t want to ruin the rite for Phil either, he knew his reactions would only hurt the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he had avoided him. He had avoided him that morning just as he had avoided nearly everyone else in the past few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was killing him! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The loneliness of staying in his room all day was killing him! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be seen, he didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel. He was so tired. His days of distracting himself with books and pacing and writing letters that he eventually tore apart and threw away before he even had the chance to pre-read them, it all left him exhausted. Shaking and headache ridden when he was awake, his voices only grew stronger, more insistent as the aches that plagued his sleep deprived body grew stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even his sleep was a reprieve from the thoughts that churned in his head. His dreams consisted of the same imagery that haunted his waking thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil hanging from the rigging of the ship, writhing in pain as his wings were mutilated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur being torn away from him by a massive black wave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scarred man’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inky blackness of the water as Philza was sucked under. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood seeping from his father’s wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood seeping across…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BLOOD!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hissed, tugging at the threads around his fingers as he entered the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to distract himself. He didn’t want Lucy to see him, not like this, but he needed something, anything, to shut the damn voices up! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely heard Lucy’s greeting chirp as he nearly staggered into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” he backed up, fumbling with the thread now stuck around his fingers. “Sorry...sorry I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed, steadying his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t mean to nearly bump into you.” he forced a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall endergirl before him tilted her ears, scratching something out onto her journal before handing it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re not feeling well, we can always meet up later?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No I-I need to…” Techno trailed off, staring at the ground. “I need to distract myself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heartbeat slowed a bit as he heard a faint, soothing purr from the girl before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, I can help with that.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He saw ears atop her head flick upwards, her version of a smile. Though the carapace around her lips did seem to upturn ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno took his usual seat across from her at the desk, slowly beginning to untangle the threads about his fingers. He didn’t feel like reading. But just sitting there, listening to the scratch of Lucy’s pen across parchment as she transcribed, the rustling of paper, the gentle tapping of her tail against the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno closed his eyes and pressed his palms against the desk, feeling the faint vibrations of the quill scratching out numerous words into a new set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathed in, the scent of the books and candle wax was accompanied today with the additional steam of peppermint tea. The sharp tang of lemon biscuits contrasted nicely with the tea’s vapours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, resting his head against the desk, finally opening his eyes. He watched as Lucy’s quill would dip into the inkwell, then scrawl out across a leaf of parchment, creating elegant swirls and gentle curves along the lettering as she flowed her hand across the page, before dipping back into the inwell to begin the pattern again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How have you been?” he finally asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy paused, writing out her answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Worried.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“About?” Techno raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You, mostly. You looked like you were in pain.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The brief image of blood flickered across his mind, there and gone in an instant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess...I guess I am. In a way.” he rubbed a hand across his eyes, hoping the image wouldn’t return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to explain.” Techno poked at the edge of the desk. “I don’t...I don’t really want to talk about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s okay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy smiled gently, her tail flicking back and forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black and white checkerboards flickered across his vision. Techno winced, shaking his head and rubbing viciously at his eyes as he tried to block out the image. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you working on?” he continued to palm at his eyes for a moment before reading what Lucy had written. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rewriting a book on old world mythos. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She explained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The old world had its own historical records of cultures and stories that spanned for centuries before they even showed up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By the time they had written down all those records, a lot of the stories were no longer being told anymore. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She gave her writing hand a light flex before continuing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know it probably doesn’t seem all that important to transcribe dead stories into a modern setting, but I think it has its purpose. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” Techno asked. “Don’t mean to sound rude, I like those old stories. Just curious as to why you think they should continue existing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy seemed to ponder for a moment, taking her time in writing her response. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stories are made to connect us, are they not?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” Techno was genuinely intrigued by her answer. “They don’t instruct us, they don’t teach, they’re just entertainment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think so.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy shook her head, her mane fluffing up at the movement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You tell a child not to go swimming near a river or he’ll be washed away and he just goes and does it anyways, because he’s not seen what a river can do so why should he listen? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But tell a child that monsters live in the river and will eat him if he goes near it without an adult, </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tapped her fingers against the paper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And he’ll avoid most water sources, until he’s hopefully old enough to know how to swim.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno flinched at the mentions of water, that awful image of Wilbur being washed away from him flickered briefly in his vision for a second, before disappearing once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think stories are meant to scare idiot kids?” Techno tried to smile, hiding the fear of an episode he felt trying to bubble to the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think stories get their points across better than just outright instructing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy explained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you say ‘don’t do something, do this instead’, why should anyone listen? They don’t know you, they don’t have any proof that your instructions are for their betterment, they don’t even know if you’re telling the truth.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But, whether one tells the truth or not with a story, </span>
  </em>
  <span>She twisted a lock of her mane within her fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever your message is, people are more likely to understand and relate to it better. Instead of saying something outright, telling a story brings a sort of connection to your audience and whatever it is you’re trying to say. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you think that’s fascinating? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She added. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All these connections we’ve made to our past? All the connections we can make to our futures? All the connections we could make with each other now?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s smile finally became genuine at the sight of her enthusiasm, it almost quieted the horrid flickering at the edges of his vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then, right as he finally felt as if he was about to relax, that he heard a startled yelp as one of the librarians slipped, tripping into the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t have done anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just a startled sound, it didn’t even sound anything remotely similar to any screams Techno had ever heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his heart suddenly began to throb within his chest as the scream repeated itself within his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices joined it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh gods no!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please no!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His vision began to warp. The bookshelves started to melt, turning into black, inky waves that sprung up around his ankles, clawing at his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PLEASE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PLEASE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>YES!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DROWN!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>GO DROWN!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>STUPID BOY!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL IT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL IT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PLease!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>PLEASE STOP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno clawed at his chest, shaking his head as he tried to keep himself from bolting right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to get out of here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to get out of here! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black and white checkerboard tiles bubbled up from the waves that crashed across his frame, splattered with bright crimson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lu-Lucy.” he couldn’t see her anymore, the library was gone, replaced by a familiar hallway now filled with seawater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could still hear her concerned chirp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flailed his free arm about, searching, until he felt a smooth, bony hand lightly grasp his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucy.” he choked as he felt the horrible, familiar crushing of his throat. “Lucy I need help!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard her chirp once more, confused but reassuring. He knew what it meant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hide me.” he gasped. “Please! Please don’t let anyone see me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like this!” he whispered. “Not like this! Not like this! Don’t let them see me! Not like this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not like this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hide!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Coward.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hide!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Kill him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL IT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Freak!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could have saved her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could have saved him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices had begun to scream again. The little yelp that he had heard earlier, still echoing in his head, morphed into an all too familiar shriek of a long dead woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar cry of agony of his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar scream of terror of his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno kept his mouth clamped shut as he felt Lucy’s hand guiding him, to where he didn’t know. He only followed. He could sense they were no longer in the library, he knew they were walking some distance, he could tell from the quiet that no one was following. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his eyes shut, gasping rapidly as the sudden image of Wilbur flickered into being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Floating before him. His skin grey and lifeless as black sea water dripped from his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Philza hates you.” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Techno began to shake as the image refused to leave, even with his eyes closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Useless brother.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the apparition vomited sea water onto his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Couldn’t help Phil. Couldn’t save me.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t even help yourself.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the vision of his dead brother was suddenly torn in half by a familiar, melted faced man. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BLOOD!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BLOOD!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL HIM!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>KILL IT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BLOOD!!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt Lucy’s hand lightly squeeze his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t make the knowledge of what he was about to go through any less terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m...I…” he choked, finally dropping to his knees as the hallucinations took hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m s-sorry, you’re seeing m-me...like this.” he gripped Lucy’s hand tightly before releasing it as he curled onto the floor. “Please, don’t leave me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t do this!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not again!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t do this again!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t leave!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK OFF!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy don’t leave!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scared…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t leave!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK OFF!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t leave! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t leave! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno heard a faint chirp and felt something warm beside him, before he was flung into hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s drowned body screamed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza’s black feathers were thrown into the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pink haired woman choked on blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man with a melting face grasped his throat, slamming him repeatedly against a wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flecks of crimson scattered across the black and white checkerboard floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain erupted from his chest and throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno shrieked.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. "He ceased: but left so charming on their ear His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear." -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam attends the funeral Philza sets up for Wilbur.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: nothing too major but it is a funeral<br/>Note: this is a fictional version of witchcraft purely for the purpose of writing a magical/semi-religious system that survived the end of the world, and not an accurate representation of its real world counterpart, do not quote me as an accurate source for practices of real world pagan rituals. </p><p>I'm posting one more chapter this week cause I'm procrastinating a take home test. Translating Elizabethan English into modern English is fun but also very brain numbing and I needed a break and just wanted to write some more. I got to visit my cats though, so that's nice, but also got to see why it was I moved into a dorm in the first place now that I've been visiting my family for more than four days.... And now I'm miss my dorm lol. My sibling has also been posting some more concept artwork for this series's version of Dream on their instagram (Will add the link to his chapter in Nothing Goes Wrong Part 3 Ch7) and I've finally drawn up a concept of Phil! Will leave a link for yall's in this chapter!<br/>Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I hope you all have a wonderful day! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam undid her outer robe, folding and tying the top half around her waist to free up her arms from the overbearing heat. Even still, she had to roll up her tunic sleeves beneath to combat the dry afternoon’s warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was pleasantly surprised to feel a shadow cast over her as Philza’s wing blocked out the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well aren’t you considerate?” She chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde man shrugged. “Can’t have you burning now, we only just started walking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam felt a sad smile play about her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was good that he was well enough to join her on her walks. She felt a sense of relief at seeing him sunning his nearly healed wing in the herb garden behind the library as he waited for her. He had been wearing the blue tunic she had modified for him, she had noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I mention how nice you look in blue?” she held her hand out for him as they reached a series of stone steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t been walking for very long, having only gone far enough to leave the main city and enter the series of cliffs beside the far shore of the island. Steps had been carved into the orange stone, dotted with the occasional patch of blue-green sea grass or lavender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you have now.” Philza took her hand, leaning slightly against her as they made their way up the steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked so much better now, Sam noted. He had gained more colour in his face since he had begun spending time outside, his wings were growing a glossy sheen. His eyes, bluer than the sea beside them, glittered with life, a stark contrast to the near dull grey they had once been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still wore the pain of grief, however. As bright as they were, there was still a distance to them, a slight film growing across them now and then as they stared blankly at nothing at times. He was still hurting, that much was evident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slight tremble in his hands, the occasional misstep as his mind wandered elsewhere, the odd dullness in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam knew he needed to mourn. Before anything else, he needed time to let this pass on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the purpose of their walk today. After he had asked for flowers a few days ago, she had decided to show him where the island’s wildflowers grew best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usually just wear green and black,” Philza explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that your coven’s colours?” Sam asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” he shrugged. “We didn’t have a uniform, I just prefer those colours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easier to hide in, I find.” Sam watched as his eyes went distant for a moment, trailing out across the sea crashing below them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I shouldn’t have given you blue.” she jested. “You stand out like a sore thumb now next to these cliffs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do you.” he grinned. “If I run fast enough you’ll be the first one targeted.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who, exactly, would you be running from?” Sam laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” the man seemed to ponder for a minute before smiling evilly at her. “Perhaps I should be running from you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam patted his cheek. “You would get about ten steps before I caught you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a challenge?” the blonde caught her hand, his eyes glittering playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all.” Sam lightly tapped his nose with a finger before freeing her hand from his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a warning.” she flashed him her fangs, before smiling sweetly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relished the sight of him faltering ever so slightly at her ‘threat’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might have to take you up on that warning some day then.” he took her hand once more, giving it a playful squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chase was going wonderfully in her favour, Sam felt a swelling of pride within her chest at that thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though for now, she told herself, she needed to back down from that chase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have everything you need?” she asked. “Aside from the flowers of course?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza took a moment before answering, as if pondering the stark reminder of their visit to the cliffs in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so, yes.” Sam felt his grip tighten slightly in her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ask Techno?” she questioned, confused as to the lack of the boy at the ritual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, yesterday night.” Philza sighed. “He said he’d think about it. And I didn’t find him this morning, so I don’t think he’s ready yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can always hold another one for him later, when he feels he’s ready,” he added. “This is...this is more for me..I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gave his hand a light squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued up the steps in silence for some time, Sam occasionally pausing to let Philza rest, watching him solemnly as his eyes would drift off towards the sea. As if some part of him was still searching for his lost son, still hoping that there was some chance he could be washed ashore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam herself wasn’t entirely sure what to think, she’d never met the boy but it was obvious the hurt his absence created within the two men in her care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it alright if I ask you about him?” she questioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza nodded bleakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s fine,” he sighed. “I should probably talk about him in any case, keep his memories alive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you like to know?” he turned to her, a sad smile upon his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said he could sing?” Sam put her arm around his shoulder. “Did you teach him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile grew a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” he leaned into her touch. “He sort of always knew how.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I found him,” he explained as they continued their walk. “He already knew how to sing. Sounded almost professionally trained too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect his old family must have had him tutored for a while, he did mention a few times his mother had taught him some songs.” Sam watched as his eyes grew dark for a moment. “But he didn’t remember much of her when he got older…Techno though...” Philza shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur loved singing, but I was shit at it.” he chuckled. “So whenever we went into a new ruin I’d always make sure we searched for books on the subject so he had some way to continue learning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He found his first guitar in one of the old cities,” Philza laughed. “The damn thing was way too big for him to carry and it was horribly out of tune but it took me ages to convince him we couldn’t take it with us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was so mad!” he smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam ran her fingers along his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He sounds like he was a handful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods you have no idea!” Phil rolled his eyes. “You’d think it would be Techno but he stuck to me like glue wherever we went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur though,” he shook his head with laughter. “Good gods that boy! I look away for half a second and he’s gone! And then I find him an hour later pantsless in a fountain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam snorted at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worse still was when he was teen!” Philza continued. “First of all, singer, second of all, a gods dammed flirt!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The amount of people I’d catch him trying to con was astounding!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Sam guided him up the final step of the cliffside. “At least he was looking out for your purse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True.” Phil chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The top of the cliff was covered in a thin forest, providing a pleasant, patchy shade for the two as they meandered towards a clearing. The light greens of the trees and grass nearly blended into the view of the blue-green sea on the horizon, broken up by the bright pops of colour of various wildflowers that sprinkled themselves amongst the shady clearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here.” Sam gestured towards the clearing, moving aside to allow Philza some space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need me for anything?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man took a glance around, a look of relief crossing his face, before he shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he removed a small satchel from his back and placed it in the centre of the clearing. “But you’re welcome to join if you would like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removed a series of bound, dried herbs from the bag and laid them out before him as Sam stood beside him. She recognised the small knife she had given him some days ago when she had heard about how he had lost his supplies. He took it from the satchel and pressed the blade to his lips, uttering a soft prayer, before making his way to the various patches of wildflowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched, curious, as he took his time harvesting each flower, before returning to her with a large bundle of them, laying them out into various clusters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a seat beside him as he knelt before the flowers, carefully winding them together into a small wreath. He looked so...methodical? Was that the right word for it, she wondered? He seemed devoid of all emotions as he worked, as though the ritual he wove had somehow snuffed out any bit of happiness or sorrow within him, leaving only his focus on the task at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt as if she didn’t even exist to him in that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world had grown small. Only existing as the clearing of trees, the flowers in his hands, the quiet bird songs, the crash of the waves below, the gentle wind that drifted through the trees. And the faint heartbeats Sam heard, emanating from the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, laying the wreath and herb bundles between himself and the edge of the cliff, visible between the trees, Philza pressed the blade of his knife to his lips once more. The prayer was silent this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam watched in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her experiences with witches before had been...less than pleasant. Philza wasn’t at all like those she had previously known. The quietness, the sheer gentleness in his actions, the love poured into all he did, it was a far cry from the dark practices she had previously known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Certainly, there was power behind those hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Power, anger, chaos even. She had no doubt, her own instincts told her blatantly, that the man had killed before. Brutally and efficiently. And he was quite capable of easily doing so again. The way he had held the sword in the sparring ring was evidence enough of that. Yet there was never any malicious intent behind his actions, she sensed. He had merely defended himself and his sons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could respect that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam almost startled at the sight of the wreath suddenly bursting into a bluish, cold flame before them. She looked to Philza, uncertain of what had happened, but the man’s eyes were calm as the wreath rapidly burnt away. The ashes scattering into the wind, drifting out to sea beyond the cliff, leaving only the hinted scent of the scorched herbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza finally returned the knife to its sheath, placing it back within the satchel, staring blankly for a moment towards where the ashes had flown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then slumped against Sam, shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she heard his quiet sobs, stroking his hair and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he finally released his grief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...thank you…” Were the only words she could hear from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&gt;Philza concept art by Saltsartwork (me) on instagram </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CMVVFwHJr_o/">https://www.instagram.com/p/CMVVFwHJr_o/</a>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. "The distress is mine." -Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucy helps Techno recover from a very bad time. They trauma bond. (Tall girlfriend go brrrrrrr)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: witnessing of a character in the midst of a hallucination induced meltdown, witnessing of a character committing accidental self harm, lots of grief, lots of emotions, panic attacks mentioned, it's a bad time. </p><p>Hey yall! Probably the last chapter update for the week as I'm going back to my dorm again and gotta get caught up on my schoolwork once more. It was nice visiting my cats and little sibling (who has been helping with the story for the main series of Nothing Goes Wrong) but I clearly have trouble focusing when in my home environment so, back to the dorms it is.<br/>Thank you all so much for continuing to read this side arc and for leaving your comments! They honestly make my day! And for those of you who have found my instagram, thanks for the likes! You're all so lovely!<br/>Thanks again for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucy clutched her journal to her chest, her tail curled about her leg in confusion and worry as she pressed her back into the corner of the room. Lying on the floor some distance away, clawing at his throat and kicking at nothing, was the pink haired boy she had befriended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know what to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno’s eyes had glazed over, staring at nothing, drool seeping from the corners of his mouth as he choked. Occasionally flailing his arms about with a shriek, but mostly twitching on his side as he dug shallow scratches into his neck and collar, whimpering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to help him. She had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew the pain he was in wasn’t at all treatable how a normal wound would be, hell she knew that type of pain well. Every glance into her eyes, no matter how brief, and the curse of her people would send images of terror into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deaths of her fellow Haunt, the burning fields, the screams of those unfortunate to have been in her path when she had lost control of herself to her fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was that pain that kept her so isolated for all these years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t at all the same pain that Techno must be in, but it was close. Similar enough that perhaps, she thought, there was something she could do to help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy took a moment to breath, hugging her arms about her tightly as she centered herself, before she began to run through her options. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was hurting himself, but she already knew restraining him would only make matters worse. If it only made her panic more, surely it would only hurt him further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Touches were out of the question, she had already been scratched at, unintentionally she knew, when she had tried to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. From his clawing motions at his neck and his coughing, she could only assume whatever he was experiencing involved touch in some way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered at the thought, remembering his letter he had sent telling her about his dislike of touch. It made far more sense now that she was witness to whatever he was suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts were broken as she heard him scream, his back arching as he clawed at the air, before collapsing back to the ground, spasming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy hugged her arms tighter about herself as her tail curled into an almost vice like grip across her ankle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt to see him like this! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She desperately thought back to the letters he had sent, the few times they had spoken in the library, scouring her memory for any hint as to how to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was bad around crowds and people, she remembered. But she had already teleported him to her cabin, away from any risk of unfamiliar people arriving on scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fidgeted often, either with winding his hair or string around his fingers or running something across his lips. She’d seen him tapping his claws in a pattern a few times, or pressing his cheek against something textured. That could be an option? Maybe? If the sensations helped to ground him, perhaps that could work? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she shook her head. She doubted anything placed in his hands would be kept, not if he didn’t know what it was, not if his mind was already gone somewhere else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did mention, she realised, he liked rose tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy bolted to her feet, a plan in mind. She knew whenever she had been in one of her own states, one of the things that could bring her out of it was a strong scent of something familiar. Something soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hurried to brew up the tea, as strong as she could make it, adding extra rose petals into the mixture in the hopes it would permeate the air, before finally returning to the room, carrying the entire kettle with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat it down beside her, and waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated it, but there really wasn’t much else she could do. Her mouth wasn’t formed to speak the way his was, and her chirps could easily be mistaken as something to be feared. Speaking was out of the question for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing she could do was wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time passed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vapours of the tea permeated the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after far, far too long, Techno’s screaming subsided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy watched cautiously as he slowly curled onto his side, his ragged breathing beginning to steady as he returned from wherever his mind had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what…” he choked, clutching at his chest. “...where...where am I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy shifted, hoping the rustle of her dress would alert him to her presence. She didn’t want to chirp, she didn’t know what would happen if she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw his ears flick towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Lucy?” his voice was so hoarse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy slid the journal across the floor to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m here, do you need anything?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched as Techno shakily took the journal, still curled on his side, coughing now and then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...just…” he rasped, weakly pushing the journal back to her. “...just...stay...please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy scooted closer to him as she held out the journal for him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can do that.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After a long moment of agonisingly watching him as he continued to cough, he finally rolled onto his back, placing an arm over his eyes as his breathing began to steady. </span>
</p><p><span>She was surprised to see him reach a hand out to her, she hadn’t thought he’d be wanting any form of contact at that moment, but she took it anyways, hoping it would help. His pale skin was a stark contrast to her own, shining grey, she noted. His hand was so small in comparison to her long,  boney fingers. But it bore years of calluses and the pink scars of battle. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>She realised with a start she’d been tracing a finger around the rough patches of skin on his palm, she quickly stopped. </span></p><p>
  <span>“...sorry…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy’s ears flicked at his voice, weak and raspy from his screams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...sorry...you saw me...like this…” his chest heaved. “...hate this...I hate this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally dragged himself upright, hugging his knees to his chest, though his hand still remained in hers, lightly gripping her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy retrieved her journal with a free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay. I know similar feelings. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh.” Techno rubbed at his collar, wincing as his hand crossed over the shallow scratches on his skin. “You know- you know what it’s like to just…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just- just not be...I guess here?” he gripped the ends of hair, tugging lightly at the strands. “Just be stu-stuck...stuck somewhere you can’t-you don’t want to go back to?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not the same as you, but yes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She then added, </span>
  <em>
    <span>One of the reasons I don’t like to be around too many people. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Still…” Techno released her hand, hugging his arms around his knees. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry you saw that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where-where are we?” he asked, glancing about the cabin. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My place.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy held out the journal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You said you needed to leave, you looked like you were panicking, I teleported us to my cabin so no one would see you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She flinched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That sounds creepy, that’s not what I meant! I just meant you looked like you needed someplace away from people for a bit and I didn’t want anyone stumbling across you in your room I panicked okay I didn’t know what to do I just did what I would have done if I started to have a panic attack I mean for you I’m sure it’s different than a panic attack but still I’m sorry! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno read the journal over repeatedly when she handed it to him with a trill of embarrassment, gods that was a horrible description! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy wasn’t sure what to think when he gave a light snort, handing the journal back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I- it took a bit for me to put that all together in my head.” his ears flicked awkwardly. “But, it’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy shuffled her tail about her ankles, watching his ears. She couldn’t look at his eyes, but she knew he was being genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you actually did basically what I needed.” his ears flicked towards the tea kettle, still opposite them on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is-is it okay...Is it okay if I have some?” he stammered quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy chirped a ‘yes’, standing before retrieving a few mugs from the kitchen, pouring out the rather strong brew of rose tea before handing it to him. Techno immediately placed the mug against his chest, his eyes closed for a long moment as he inhaled the scent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next few minutes, Lucy stayed beside him as he recovered, sipping slowly at the tea. Occasionally flinching, whimpering as he shook his head at some unseen vision, pressing the mug tightly to his chest and tapping rapidly against the ceramic as he fought off whatever was tugging at his mind. Now and then he’d ask to hold Lucy’s hand, apologising whenever he had to let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t mind. If anything, she was glad he was lucid enough to communicate his needs once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered how terrified she had been before she found a way to speak through her journal. While no one had certainly meant any harm to her, she knew the panic of being held or touched when that was the last thing she needed. She was already being crushed internally from her own memories and emotions, she didn’t want to feel that physically as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy a hug on her own terms, they were quite soothing depending on the situation. But now and then, they only served to make things worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could only imagine, with what she had seen of Techno, how terrifying being restrained could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy remembered when she had found him, shaking and chained, fear and pain laced across his form at his restraints. How long had he been in those awful shackles? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so fucking stupid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy’s ears flattened. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think you’re stupid.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil was holding a funeral ritual today,” Techno pressed the mug to his forehead. “And I didn’t go. And now…” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think you’re stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy insisted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re not ready to go then you’re not ready.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple.” the pink haired boy sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I lost my brother.” his voice cracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy curled her tail around her ankles. He needed someone to listen for a while, she knew. She could do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my twin.” Techno shook. “He was always there. He knew me. I-I always had him, he was always there and now he’s-now…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurts.” his hand clawed at his chest. “It hurts and I don’t know what to do to stop it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate this. I hate pain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy held her hand out for him. He took it, squeezing it lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been hurt before but it’s always healed.” his hand shook within her grasp. “But it’s been so long now and it won’t stop! And it just-just makes me remember things I don’t-I don’t want to remember!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurts like the memories I want to forget.” he pressed her hand against his forehead. “But different. Like it’s in my chest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy stroked his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mine’s in my shoulders. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She described. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s heavy and it aches and some days it feels like I can’t do anything. But it’s old too.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know your’s is new and I know it doesn’t feel like it now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she tried to find the best way to word her thoughts. She was never the one doing the comforting, usually she was the one being comforted in this type of situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it does feel better after a while. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She decided on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It still hurts, and it hurts a lot during the first year, but eventually it becomes easier to move forward with it. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate it.” Techno whimpered. “I hate it so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy continued to run her fingers through his hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay to hate it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just don’t force yourself to rush past it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She advised. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay to take your time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And if you need to hide at my place, for any reason, you’re always welcome.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Techno shaking beneath her fingers as he started to softly cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this.” he murmured. “I hate this...hurts... I can’t do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew how it hurt. Gods did she know how it hurt! It was a different hurt, not the same as losing a twin, but still just as painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wished there was more she could do for him. She had already done all she knew how to, but still. Seeing him when she had first found him, seeing him that night in the library, seeing him now, she wished there was some way to ease his pain further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve this, Lucy told herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long before she noticed that Techno had begun to wobble a bit where he sat, his hands nearly dropping the mug as the exhaustion began to hit. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you need to lie down a bit more?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay if you need to sleep, I have extra blankets.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” Techno nodded, before shakily dragging himself to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy helped him up the rest of the way before guiding him to the pile of pillows and blankets she called a bed, nearly carrying him as his legs buckled beneath him. He didn’t protest when she finally scooped him into her arms -gods he was much heavier than she thought he was! Was he nothing but muscle?!- and carefully laid him onto the pile where he curled up beneath the blankets, burrowing into the nest of pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat down beside him, leaning into the pile herself as she felt the day’s events begin to wear on her. Before drifting off into sleep at the sound of his quiet breaths. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Surprise! The End Notes are being used! </p><p>I'm curious as to your thoughts on the writing and series so far, so leave your questions in the comment section and I'll do my best to answer them. IE, characters/designs, plot, planning, etc... Sort of a Q&amp;A thing? </p><p>Also, I'm currently plotting out a sort of Origins series for the rest of the cast of the SMP, where they all come from, their backstories, etc. It's still in the initial draft stages as Themiscyra is taking up the majority of time at the moment.</p><p>And before any questions are asked about this, Yes I will be continuing the rest of Nothing Goes Wrong and doing a part 4, I'm just slow. And No, Meat Floor is not canon within this series. Yet....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. "...two minds two hearts that work as one..."- Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sally has FeLiNgS. Wilbur has trauma.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: graphic description of a healing scar, implied child abuse, implied ptsd of a character, dick jokes </p><p>I'm procrastination writing my notes for a lecture I missed but shush, it's fine, I got this. We good. Thank you all for reading and leaving comments, they make my day! You guys are awesome! Hope you have a wonderful day :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sally picked a fingernail through her teeth, flicking out bits of old fish. She missed having something to clean her teeth with, fingernails and sticks would just have to do. Until she found a way to get off the island...to get her </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wilbur off the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes drifted towards the boy, resting beneath the shade of a nearby tree at the edge of the sand. They had gone for a much longer walk than usual that morning, of course he’d be tired, she thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearly noon now, the sun had risen high enough to make the heat of the day grow to an uncomfortable degree. The two of them had agreed on taking a break on the beach, where the sea breeze would keep them cool, before returning to their camp to work on...well she wasn’t actually sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a steady supply of water. They still had millet cakes for the next two days, ones that weren’t mouldy. And it wasn’t as though fishing was much of a chore for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally grinned at the thought before glancing over at Wilbur, lightly dozing beneath the shade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wound had healed enough to no longer need the bandage. The scar left behind was thick and jagged, the wound had desperately needed suturing but at the time there hadn’t been anything she could use for such a thing. Sure she had her hair, but she had no needles, fish bones possibly could have worked but then again, they could also have added to infection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt bad her lack of thinking had left such a scar on him. The dark pink and white of the healing skin still looked agonising, tugging at him whenever he moved too quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hoped it wouldn’t still hurt him in the future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally gave her arms a little stretch and sighed, shuffling back to her feet. She smirked a bit as she heard Wilbur mumble something groggily in his half asleep state. He’d grown on her, she realised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was actually, rather sweet now that she thought about it. Offering to help her whenever he could despite his handicap, constantly saying it was to make up for being useless when he was sick. Not that she cared too much about doing all the work when he was sick, there really wasn’t much to do aside from keep him alive and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t capable of caring for the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Still, it was nice he wanted to share the load. And she’d be lying if she didn’t want to thank him somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she should finish that stupid army of tiny dicks for him, Sally giggled as she quietly left him by the tree, not wanting to wake him all the way. He needed to rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she had made her way back to the hut, she set about busying herself with the stash of clay, not really bothering to shape anything in particular at first as she let her mind wander. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes cast themselves across the hut, stopping at the line of bowls near the back, now storing a few handfuls of dried millet and some other herbs. She chuckled slightly at the rather wonky new additions Wilbur had attempted to make. If she was being honest, they were perfectly functional, they just looked...kind of stupid. It was rather sweet of him though, she remembered, when he offered to make them when the original bowls had broken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d also woven the grass mats that now lay near the fire pit. He said she had looked a bit uncomfortable constantly sleeping on the hard ground, so he had spent an entire day collecting the softer, fluffy grasses by the marsh to prepare for weaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Sally had no doubt he would go through with his promise of making the mats, but still, she’d been rather surprised to return from fishing to a -mostly- comfy place to sleep that night. Sure, it was a thin mat, the grass was a bit scratchy, but it was far better than the hard ground. And...the thought was...sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crushed the wad of clay in her hands and started over, a proper shape in mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt so...weird? Was that the right word? Just, the thought of him in general felt weird. Sally wasn’t sure exactly why. She couldn’t remember a time any human had treated her like this, was this just how decent people treated each other? Or was there something to his actions? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> blush. A lot. Especially around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she may not have interacted with humans that often, she knew at least what a crush was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem now was, was she alright with that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Initially, she had just thought of him as just a friend. Nothing more. They were just companions in the same boat, or almost the same boat, stuck on this island together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alright maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t stuck, she told herself. But he certainly was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he wouldn’t leave her behind, so why should leave him? So, in a way, she was stuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally blew a lock of hair from her eyes, huffing as she formed another tiny clay sculpture to place by the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was certainly stuck emotionally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sheer whiplash of the last few weeks had sent her mind spiralling into confusion. All the flirts, the playful gestures, the taunts, everything that had been a facade...no longer was anymore. Her own mask had become her reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she didn’t know how to feel about it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snarled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was human! But...he had never shown an ounce of hatred or malice towards her, or his own family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need to stay here, but she did. No longer out of pity, or dare she say loneliness...though loneliness was indeed part of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt so...relaxed around him. She felt as if she could let her guard down, play a bit, she felt as if he was safe to be herself around. Hell, it felt as if she could cry in front of him and he would try to comfort her! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, what if it only </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> that way? What if the second she showed any aspect of her true self, he’d turn on her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what if he didn’t? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans were cruel. Human children could be crueler. She knew that well enough, the taunts and disgusted sneers of years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was neither a child nor cruel, who was to say the second she revealed her true form to him, he would react in any way other than what he already had towards her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left me at the beach!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally nearly jumped out of her skin as Wilbur sat down beside her, a fake pout on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t want to wake ya.” she elbowed him playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost felt disgusted with herself that the action was truly playful, and not the facade she had crafted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost disgusted, that was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw!” Wilbur poked at the tiny shape she had made within her hands. “You’re making him some friends!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, more dick friends for the original dick!” Sally held the tiny statue up. “And they shall all convene at the wondrous dick temple you have made!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Wilbur scratched at his hairline -when had his hair grown out?- and shrugged. “Tried to make. It keeps collapsing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe try putting some sticks into it?” Sally suggested. “Could help support the structure a bit more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” the boy nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally noticed his eyes drifting a bit. She knew that look by now, his mind was no doubt wandering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she grabbed another handful of clay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid shit.” Wilbur took a handful as well, mushing it about his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever…” he trailed off a bit. “You ever look back on some of the things that happened when you were younger and just think, what the fuck?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the time.” Sally shrugged. “Pretty common thought I’d say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But like, I dunno.” the brunette sighed. “Just...there’s this question I’ve always had at the back of my mind that I’ve always wanted to ask my brother and now, I dunno if I’ll ever get an answer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the question?” Sally asked, shaping the small blob of clay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s...it’s kinda personal.” Wilbur’s eyes looked towards the ground. “Has to do with our birth mom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....uh…?” Sally raised an eyebrow skeptically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NOT LIKE THAT!” Wilbur hissed. “Gods! You mention you have mommy issues once and everyone assumes it’s a kink thing and not an actual traumatic experience!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit! Sorry!” Sally quickly apologised. “Didn’t mean to assume.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no it’s okay I just…” Wilbur rubbed his face with a free hand, smudging a bit of the clay onto his cheek. “Fuck.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what happened to her.” he said finally. “I mean if I think about it, Phil technically kidnapped us…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Sally set the new clay sculpture by the fire pit, intrigued by this new facet to the boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know Tech and I are twins but Philza’s not our biological father.” Wilbur explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kinda gathered that.” Sally nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned closer to him to listen. It was odd, she thought, how much he was opening up to her. Was he just lonely? Or was there something else to it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was skeptical, but still, a part of her almost wanted to believe that maybe, there might be something else to his admissions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our bio dad and mom were not exactly on the greatest of terms.” Wilbur shook his head. “That’s putting it really lightly, but I try not to think about what was actually happening. All I know is one day I woke up and Tech and mom were gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I waited for them to show up all day,” he hugged his arms around himself. “Da- the guy who sired us, was acting kinda...off. And then Tech showed up again, but something was different about him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t used to be quiet all the time,” Sally listened as he continued. “He heard voices and saw things and stuff but he used to be really talkative and would always try to play with everyone he was around. And he loved giving people hugs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed, his hands gripping at his arms. “But when he came back he was just…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dead silent.” Sally flinched at the words, remembering the pink haired boy in the other cell. The odd glassiness of his eyes as he’d drift away from the present was not a look one could easily forget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say a word.” Wilbur’s voice had grown quiet. “He didn’t want to be looked at, didn’t want to be talked to, didn’t want to be touched.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>must have happened,” he finally said after a long moment of silence. “Especially after our sire ordered him to be sent away to...somewhere. But, I never found out what had happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only thing he said when I snuck into the carriage with him was just the same words over and over again.” he shuddered. “Killed my momma.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d-I’d like to think he didn’t.” his voice was hardly more than a whisper. “I’d hope he didn’t. But, knowing him, knowing how strong he is, even back then, I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I’ll never find out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally didn’t know how to respond to that. How does one respond to that?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re only thinking of this now, because we’re stuck out here?” she settled on. “And you’re worried you’ll never see him again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yeah...yeah I think so.” Wilbur released his arms, letting them fall by his sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, it’s just,” he said quietly. “It’s been at the back of my mind now for ages and, gods I just don’t know what to do about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally shuffled closer to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she tried to think about what best to say. “Do you still love him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded, slowly. “He does a lot of things unintentionally. I don’t think I wouldn’t love him if-if he did...But I’d still be upset at him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s pretty reasonable to be upset.” Sally agreed. “Have you ever been upset at him before?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot.” Wilbur admitted. “ ‘Specially when we were kids and shit. But I don’t think it’s the same kind of ‘upset’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not,” Sally huffed. “Do you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trailed off, still unsure exactly what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d still love him.” she was surprised to feel Wilbur’s forehead press against her shoulder. “But it hurts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally awkwardly placed a hand on his back, pulling him closer for a hug. He sounded like he needed one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feelings suck.” she said quietly. “Complicated feelings are just shit to deal with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found herself pulling him closer to her, both arms around him now, as she ran her fingers through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was warm, she noted. His skin was a bit dry from a recent sunburn, but it wasn’t unpleasant to the touch per say. There was a comforting warmth to him, soft almost. Safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, she would have hissed at the thought. But now, she wasn’t sure. She wanted to keep holding him, drinking in his warmth, the safety she felt around him. And that feeling, she hated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally realised she was back at her original thoughts again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She suppressed a frustrated snarl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How dare he?! How dare he make her feel so...so safe? Warm? Happy? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was the one holding him, she was the one with the teeth, she was the one who could leave at any time, hell she could kill him if she so chose! And yet...and yet she felt as if something would hurt her if she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Wilbur return the embrace, pulling her close enough that she could hear his heartbeat. She hated that she didn’t despise the action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated that she wanted to be held like this forever.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. "And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell" -Homer,  The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Philza finally is able to talk with Techno about their trauma. Lucy made scones.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: mentions of accidental self harm, slight blood warning, references to PTSD/drowning/torture, lots of guilt </p><p>Hey guys! Happy easter! I'm on a two week break but I'm using the first week as a means to catch up on some study and schoolwork that I fell behind on so I don't know if I'll be posting anything more than just a weekly chapter for now, we'll see. In the meantime I'm planning out how to end part 1 of the Themiscyra Arc, (yes there will be a part 2, it looks like at the moment it'll mostly be family fluff...FOR NOW!) and I've started writing not 1 but 2 more side arcs! Slowly though, I still have to do school. One is specifically about the various other characters of the SMP and how they got to where they are now in this I guess AU? I think this is definitely an AU now with how things have been written. And the other is specifically about Techno during his wandering years alone cause best boy needs some adventures and experience. And I know I've kinda left the Nothing Goes Wrong Arc on a bit of a mild cliffhanger but I will get back to it eventually. My brain is still going haywire with all the school work I gotta catch up on though and I do want to finish part 1 of Themiscyra at least before I start on doing anything else. <br/>Thank you all for reading, and thank you for your lovely comments! I read them whenever I feel unmotivated or down, you have no idea how much they help. I hope you all have a wonderful day and happy easter! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Is he hurt?!” Phil wrung his hands in panic as he glanced behind the endergirl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Did-did he hurt you?” he asked, cautiously. “Sometimes-sometimes he can accidentally-” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No! No I’m fine! </span>
  </em>
  <span>The girl held up her journal for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His neck is scratched up but I think he’s otherwise okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Phil read. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s asleep right now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The endergirl, Lucy, gestured towards the door beside the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza felt Sam’s gentle hand on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll check on him.” she said reassuringly. “You just have a seat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He numbly did as he was told, slumping into one of the mismatched chairs that Lucy had dug out of a closet from somewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The endergirl had teleported to them the day after Wilbur’s funeral, explaining that something had happened to Techno before immediately teleporting them to what Phil could only assume was her cottage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the initial dizziness of teleporting had worn off, he had panicked. And probably only worried the poor girl, who now stood across from him, still scratching something out into the journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you like some tea? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please.” Phil rubbed his eyes before resting his face in his hands, trying to steady his racing heart as he heard the endergirl busy herself within the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods he was useless! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew this would happen eventually. That Techno would boil over and break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew and yet he hadn’t done anything- could he have done anything? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had noticed the boy avoiding him recently, not wanting to talk, not wanting comfort. Not wanting anything to do with discussing how he was feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Understandably so, Philza knew Techno was going to struggle when it came to resolving this. He had hoped the boy would come to him when he was ready, but then again, who was to say when, exactly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready</span>
  </em>
  <span> was for Techno? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he could have at least been there for him more, he chided himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, was that even a feasible thing he could have done? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been so weak himself this past month. When he wasn’t asleep or attempting to rest, he’d only felt exhausted by even the smallest bit of interaction, no matter how helpful it may have been. Especially when they had first arrived, he knew he hadn’t been lucid often. How much advice or care could one give to their son when they couldn’t even stay conscious or coherent most days? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter now, he realised. What happened, had happened. Techno had broken. And whether it was preventable or not, Philza could at least try to help him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent of rose tea and baking drifted him from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up towards the kitchen, Lucy was hunched over a tray of fresh scones, piling them one atop the other before removing them and rebuilding the little stack, as if it wasn’t quite balanced enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need a hand with anything?” Phil asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The endergirl chirped and made a little wave of her hand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>before carrying the tray to the table, setting it down onto the embroidered cloth in the centre. Adding a set of mugs and a tea kettle beside it and gesturing to the tray for Phil to take. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relented to settling into the chair, relaxing somewhat as he took a mug of the tea, occasionally picking at the biscuit in hand, his eyes still glancing back at the door to the room Sam had entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed Lucy’s form hunch over a bit more, her mane hiding her face as her tail tapped against the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t do much. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wrote. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t even know if I handled it all that well. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“For someone who’s never seen Techno...like this…” Phil took a sip of the tea, it was quite strong for rose tea he noted. “You handled things very well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just did what works for me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She explained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could have been horribly off base. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you weren’t, and I’m grateful for that.” the scent of the tea seeped into his nerves, soothingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you two have been able to get along so well.” he added. “It’s good to see him making friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed Lucy’s tail curl up around the leg of the chair she sat in, her ears flicking uncomfortably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to change the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you find this tablecloth?” he asked, tracing out the little embroidered flowers on its surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I made it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy held out the journal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I make a lot of things. By hand and such.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I don’t feel comfortable around a lot of people so I don’t go into town except for work. So I don’t buy things often.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable.” he finally took a taste of the scone, it was incredibly sweet. A bit too sweet for his tastes but oddly, it seemed to balance the flavour of the rather strong tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks lovely.” he added. “You sew?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Embroider mostly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lucy straightened a bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I make a lot of my own clothes though, for obvious reasons.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p><span>“Techno likes sewing.” Phil hinted. </span><span><br/></span> <em><span>He likes tea too.</span></em><span> The endergirl let out a light, warbling chirp. </span></p><p>
  <span>She held the journal out once more, hesitating a bit before showing it to Phil.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he’s alright with it, maybe sometime later, when he’s feeling well enough, he could come visit me?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Phil blinked. Was she asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> permission to see his son? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno’s an adult,” he shrugged. “A new one but I trust he is capable of choosing to meet with friends without my permission.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucy’s ears twitched, confused, as she quickly scratched out another message into her journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I meant, and I’m sorry, really sorry if I’m being blunt, I meant, are you alright with having your son meeting with an enderfolk?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, so that was the worry, Philza realised. And a fair worry at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Endermen were not looked on as...the same as a human...on the mainland. Less than a hybrid at best, far more dangerous than an angered animal at worst. Even he was guilty of ending the lives of a few, he remembered with a pang. In his younger, dumber, more fearful years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He understood where the girl was coming from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see what you mean,” he explained. “But I would have no problems with this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Techno truly was capable of deciding who to befriend and who not to. But this assurance was not for Techno’s sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know Lucy’s past, but her lineage alone was enough of a hint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was going to be Techno’s friend, then she was going to be Philza’s friend as well in a way. And if he cared at all about her or his son, then Lucy’s comfort with him was paramount.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always welcome to visit us.” he assured her. “Or come calling for Tech if you’d like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a faint blush of purple across her cheeks as a little warble left her throat, before she stood and turned back to the kitchen, her tail twitching back and forth awkwardly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Philza could ask what that was for, Sam returned, quietly motioning him to the darkened room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s awake,” she explained as she closed the door behind them, speaking quietly. “He has a few cuts on his neck but he won’t let me touch them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil swallowed at the sight of his boy, nearly burrowed into the pile of cushions and blankets in the corner, curled on his side. Dried blood stained his tunic collar and throat and under his sharpened nails. He was turned away from him, but Phil could still sense the wary red eyes scanning the room at the sound of his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll work with him.” he gave Sam’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Could you give us a few minutes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon nodded and silently made her way out the door, leaving the two within the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey prince.” Philza took a seat beside Techno’s pile, if the boy reacted he couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard a bit about what happened.” he said softly, offering a hand. “Do you want to-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cut off as Techno suddenly grabbed his hand and rolled over to face him, pressing Phil’s palm against his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh….” Phil flinched slightly as he felt the boy’s claws scrape his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh Tech,” he stroked his thumb across the boy’s hairline. “Oh prince I’m so sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno was specific when it came to physical contact. Most of the time he seemed to hate it, flinching away or uttering a warning “no”, even for Phil and Wilbur. But then other times, he’d lean his head against Phil’s shoulder, press his forehead to the man’s hand. Rarely, very rarely, he’d ask for a hug. Never for long, always for however much he needed, before saying when he’d had enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was understandable, Philza had lived with him long enough to know his reasons as to why. Touch was a contradictory sensation for Techno. Touch was what had helped and comforted him, but touch was also what hurt him more often than not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy had described it once as being like trying to press the two same poles of a magnet together, but with him as one magnet and someone else as the other. Sometimes the pressure would fade and be nothing more than a gentle warmth, sometimes it would only build until it became unbearable. And if it happened without him knowing what was coming, it was too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil didn’t relate, touch had always been a soothing comfort for him. But he wasn’t Techno. He hadn’t lived through what Techno had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So seeing his son so quickly lean into his hand was heart wrenching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, beginning to stroke the pink hair on the boy’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...hurts…” Techno mumbled, burrowing his face deeper into Phil’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What hurts prince?” the man cautiously placed his other hand out, offering it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...everything…” Techno grabbed the other hand, placing it onto the side of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...saw Wilbur…” he continued, his voice was raspy. “...the woman...that...the melting...checkerboards...water…you were...hurt...it hurts...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nodded at each word. He’d heard most before, the recurring visions that would appear whenever Techno had his episodes. Wilbur, the water, himself, those were new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Techno pulled Phil’s hands from his face, though he still held them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry mate.” Philza stroked the back of his son’s hands. “No reason to be sorry for being upset.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not...about that….” the boy’s eyes clenched shut, then opened, then shut again as he shook his head, pulling his hands free and palming at his eyes. A pained keen tore from his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it hurt to see him like this! Philza flinched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do-do you...do y-you hate me?” Techno finally asked after he took a breath, sniffling as he started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Phil held his hands out again, offering them if needed. “Why would you think I hated you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was-I was... on watch.” Techno stammered between sobs. “That night. I was on watch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh gods, Philza felt his heart drop. He was blaming himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t-could...couldn’t st-top them…” his son curled in on himself, grasping tightly at his pink hair, tugging it in distress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright-” Phil was cut off as the boy snapped at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s FUCKING NOT!” Techno’s eyes whirled red as he tore at his hair, drool beginning to pool at the corners of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur’s dead!” his voice was a snarl now. “DEAD!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were hurt! And Wilbur’s dead!” his voice broke once more as he dry heaved from the shock of his own words. “I didn’t do shit! I didn’t-didn’t do anything! I killed him! He’s dead cause of me! I killed him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza waited. That was all he could do at the moment. Techno needed to let this out, he knew. As much as it hurt to see him cry, the boy needed this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after far too long, he saw Techno remove his claws from his hair, holding a hand out to him. Phil took it, lightly stroking his thumb across the back of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get-I get it if-if you hate me.” Techno mumbled quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil placed his free hand on top of Techno’s, cradling the boy’s finger between his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will never hate you, Tech.” he assured him. “I love you. You’re my son and I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” he added before Techno could interrupt. “I do not, for a second, blame you for what happened that night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were outnumbered and exhausted, and they were well prepared.” he explained. “You did nothing wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Techno.” Philza cut him off once more. “I understand why you think that way, but I will NEVER blame you for a second for what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay mate?” he patted the boy’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” he added. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed at the memory of the darkened seas flooding his lungs as the waves dragged him down....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Wilbur…” Techno squeezed his hand. “I...Wilbur…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza felt a sharp pang in his chest. His own tears began to spring to life at the corners of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had him, he had his wrist in his hand. And then the waves had taken him away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there had been nothing he could do about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been nothing he could do for Wilbur as he had seen Techno struggling to keep himself above the water. It was either search beneath the black waves with sinking wings, for someone who was already gone from sight, or drag Techno onto the wreckage before his lungs filled with water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had chosen the latter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had accepted that already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza took a slow breath, then let it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur was my fault, Tech.” he gave the boy’s hands a light squeeze. “And...and nothing I do or say will ever account for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur was my fault, not yours.” he re-stated. “Never yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, Techno closed his eyes and buried his face into Philza’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tentatively around the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for some time. Phil stroked his son’s hair, picking out the little nots that had formed, as Techno quietly cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When does it stop hurting?” the boy asked, muffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza sighed, he didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” he admitted. “I don’t know, but I know it hurts less after some time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate it.” Techno mumbled. “I hate it so much!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Phil patted his head. “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After awhile, Techno finally pulled away from him, sighing heavily as he wiped his face clean on his sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...m’ neck hurts…” he mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got scratched up there pretty bad.” Phil nodded. “Would you like Sam to take care of it now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno nodded, hugging his knees up to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....smells like baking…” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucy made some scones.” Philza explained as he stood to retrieve Sam. “Would you like some?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....scones ‘re nice….” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. UPDATE! (Not a chapter)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>AN UPDATE (don't be scared of the all-caps, everything is fine)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hey guys! Hope you all are doing well! </p><p><br/>I'm currently finalising the next chapter in the Themiscyra Arc, will be posting it tomorrow. It's gonna be a longer one than usual and is going to VERY important for Sally and Wilbur's character arcs. Hope you're ready for it! :) </p><p><br/>I've also placed Themiscyra into a different series than Nothing Goes Wrong, so if you're confused as to why it's been removed from the Nothing Goes Wrong Series, it's that. They're both still part of the same canon I just thought Themiscyra and Nothing Goes Wrong are too thematically different to really fit well together? If that makes sense? It clears up the tags a bit though, so for those that want a romance and family angst, they can read Themiscyra. For those that want main storyline stuff from the SMP, they can read Nothing Goes Wrong. </p><p>With that said, these are the series I plan on doing within the future: </p><p>Nothing Goes Wrong- Part 4, will focus on Techno and Tommy planning to rescue Philza and creating the Hound Army, while Dream schemes and a certain Egg begins to cause problems. </p><p>Origins- A series of separate stories about the various SMP members and how they came to be where they are now. Currently only consisting of 'Brethren of Blood', which has two chapters out now (go check it out), though Quackity's backstory is in the works and Bad and Skeppy's stories are being plotted out by my sibling and I. </p><p>One Shots- Not currently set up but mainly consisting of just little one shot ideas that sibling and I thought were cool but couldn't fit into our current canon. IE, Meat Floor. </p><p>Extra- Maybe a full put together set of character designs all in one place so readers don't have to scour through the different stories for the links to images? Maybe also a page like this one explaining the way things are set up? World Building ramblings? </p><p>Thoughts? </p><p>Hope you guys are ready for the next chapter! I'm really nervous about posting it. </p><p>It's 2AM, I should get back to studying. <br/><br/></p><p>Go drink water! </p><p>Thank you all so much for reading and for your comments! They make my sibling and I's day! :) </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In the meantime, enjoy this BBH fanart my sibling did! <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CM6JcTjpqOG/">https://www.instagram.com/p/CM6JcTjpqOG/</a></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. “down from his brow she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters full of blooms” ― Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilbur and Sally. They confess. Their feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: description of healing scar, it's implied Sally wasn't wearing Wilbur's sweater while swimming but NOTHING IS DESCRIBED and Wilbur is RESPECTFUL about it! There is a misunderstanding and Sally does throw a punch but it's not for the reason you're thinking. There is a kiss and cuddling at the end. </p><p>Well, there it is yall! Come get your slow burn fluff for couple number 1! <br/>Not gonna lie, I'm very scared about posting this chapter.<br/>Can you believe there's only a few more chapters left in this first arc? I can't. And I'm writing the dang thing! Hope you all are doing well and having a good day! Thank you so much for continuing to read and for all your comments and feedback. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gonna go fishing.” Sally called out. “I might be awhile today, the current felt like it might be changing a bit so the fish will definitely be hiding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See ya.” Wilbur gave her a little wave before returning to his task of weaving. He had managed to create a thread of softened grass fibers that wasn’t itchy for once, and was now testing to see if he could weave a blanket of sorts. It was starting to get colder at night, he noticed. He had woken up to his very core shivering as the fire died down within their hut, far more often now than normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as nice as cuddling was- he shook his head at the thought, NO! But as nice as Sally had been to share her warmth with him, they still needed something more substantial than shared body heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck! That stupid blush was back! Wilbur angrily threaded the strand of fibres together as he felt his ears redden at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was getting bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well...sort of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what his feelings should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On one hand, Sally was...admittedly wonderful. She was fun, she was playful, she had a fantastically terrible sense of humour. She was cunning, her plan to escape was what had saved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was...kind....she had no reason to save his life. She had no reason to stay with him. And yet, she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had already gathered that it had been a struggle for her, whether she had openly admitted or not, it was obvious she didn’t trust humans. And fair enough, from what she had told him about her experience with them. He honestly wouldn’t have blamed her for leaving him, however she would have planned to do so. And yet, she stayed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew she could probably leave at any time, either with her hybrid abilities or intellect or both, it would be easy for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she stayed, with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that thought plagued him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why him? Of all people, why would she stay for him? He’d done literally nothing, he was a liability, he had his own grief to deal with and probably was annoying her with how much he continued to talk about his problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or did she not care about that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did she see him as a friend? He would like to be seen as a friend, he decided. But, he also would like to be seen, maybe, just maybe, as a little more than a friend? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. This was so stupid! He was stupid! He just wanted a friend, they were just friends, just friends trying to survive out here in the middle of fuck all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of Sally’s needly teeth flashed across his mind, her smile blanching into his brain. Her autumn hair, her laugh, the way she tucked her knees under his sweater, the way it was too big for her, the warmth of her back against his at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way her arms had tightened around his chest as she had dragged him to the surface of the water, the way her lips had pressed against his as she pushed life back into his lungs, the way her hand rested against his chest as she confirmed his breathing….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted that again. He wanted to feel that warmth wrapped around him, that smile, that laugh, that cunning teasing...that warm sensation of life passing through his lips as it flooded his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to feel that forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Wilbur seethed, flinging the half woven blanket aside. “Fuck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur buried his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stood, beginning to pace about the hut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur kicked another log onto the fire, watching as the flames caught and began to snap and hiss eagerly at the wood, licking across the bark and sending sparks swirling with each pop of sap catching in the heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sat down before the fire, running his fingers through his hair as he watched the tongues of flame lap hungrily at the log. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a long moment to breath, wincing as the movement stretched against the reddened scar in his side, before slowly letting out the air in his lungs. The long breath against the flames made them flicker and dance from his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then he noticed the bleach white stick of coral beside the fire pit. He picked it up, twirling it within his hands, noting the darkened stain of dried blood from where it had pierced him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally had kept it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed the darkened bit of the coral, flaking off the dusty blood stain until it was, mostly, white once more. The dark line halfway through it still remained however, no matter how much he picked at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clutched it tightly in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, the question was, how to bring that up with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if she didn’t return those feelings? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if she grew scared of him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure he could accept her as just wanting to stay friends, it would hurt but he could respect that. It was what he had originally wanted anyhow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if she was scared of him? What then?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark dread of her leaving him at his confession nearly strangled him as he pressed the piece of coral to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he would do if she left him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he couldn’t just...he couldn’t just NOT tell her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had been here for so long, they were probably going to be here for much longer. He’d have to tell her at some point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight? Maybe? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or was that too soon? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe tomorrow then? After he’d had a chance to sleep on his feelings? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, no. He’d be right next to her the whole night, it just...no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is so fucked!” he stood once more, placing the coral piece into his pants pocket before retrieving the half finished blanket to at least give his hands SOMETHING to do as he processed his revelation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wove the fibres.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Angrily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustrated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> At himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the stupid flush in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the rapid beating of his heart within his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the warmth spreading across his entire frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have to tell her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she got back, he decided. When she got back from her fishing, he’d tell her. And he’d accept her response, he told himself, with respect, no matter if she returned his feelings or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Better to just get it out there now and ride out whatever the response was until the emotions settled. Rather than wait agonisingly for the night to end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur took a deep breath, steadying himself, then sighed, letting his heart slow within his chest. It still pounded against his ribs, but less so now. Less aching, less longingly. It still hurt slightly, but it was manageable for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to work on the blanket, eventually finishing it just between noon and twilight, when the sun was at an obnoxious angle and the shadows had grown long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally still hadn’t returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was odd, but then, she could just be enjoying the sun for a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stood, trying not to think too hard about her as stretched out his back, before folding the blanket around his shoulders, testing out the feel of it against his skin. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t rough or scratchy either. It was a bit like wool, a tad coarse but rather springy and far warmer than nothing at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the coals of the fire, still sparking and popping with a loud snap, before looking back towards the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally still hadn’t come back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach gnawed at him, he hadn’t eaten yet that day aside from his usual ration of millet bread that morning. He wasn’t starving, he hadn’t been starving per-say, but still… His eyes glanced down across his frame. He’d had to cinch his belt a bit tighter recently, and he could count at least two ribs beginning to strain against his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not ideal in the slightest, but he wouldn’t be getting sick anytime soon at least. And maybe, once he was strong enough, he could always help out with Sally’s hunts. Provide some extra food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hoped she’d been eating enough too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, now that he thought about it, had she been? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to tell from her frame alone, his sweater hid that well. And she didn’t look tired or complain that she was hungry or make any indication of such. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, what if she had been hiding that from him? That was a possibility. A scary one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if...what if she was taking so long because it had all finally hit her? The hunger and exhaustion had caught up all at once? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worry ate him until it was too much and soon Wilbur found himself limping across the beach, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he followed her now hours old footprints towards...well...he actually never knew where she hunted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her footsteps lead him towards a part of the island he hadn’t been to, full of rocks and tide-pools and foaming waves that churned against them. It was there he lost her trail, having no footprints to guide him along the rocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur wandered a bit, picking his way through the jagged pools, stumbling occasionally as his bare feet slipped now and then on the green carpets of algae that scattered across the rocks. For a long moment he worried. Had she been hurt? Had she fallen somewhere? She did mention earlier about sensing a change in the current, could that have possibly sucked her out to sea? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. She was smart, she was far more capable than him when it came to surviving alone. And, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> say she’d be a bit late coming back today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur finally gave up his search, sitting himself down on the edge of a large rock that jutted out against the tide, dangling his legs in the water as he hugged the blanket tighter about himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no reason to worry. She was fine. She would be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A new worry tugged at his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How would she react to his admission? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could imagine her possibly laughing at him, that would hurt but at least it wouldn’t mean hatred or fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, what if she didn’t?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the few threats she had made prior, jokingly of course, though there was no doubt in his mind she was fully capable of following through with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should soften the confession, he told himself. Give a peace offering, just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question now was what? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed, kicking a bit of the water that flowed about his legs. The water wasn’t too deep around this point of rocks, he noticed. Possibly would only come up to his knees, he could wade if he was careful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should collect some shellfish for her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged off the blanket, folding it neatly onto the rock beside him and gingerly lowered himself into the surf, wobbling slightly as the waves knocked lightly against his knees. After a moment to steady himself against the rocks, he carefully began to wade through the water, keeping an eye out for any crabs or shellfish hiding amongst the rocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was finally as the sun began to lower across the ocean, that he caught sight of a fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked, rubbing his eyes. There shouldn’t be fish that large this far into the tide pools, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granted, it was some distance away, leisurely taking its time to swim towards the rocks. He guessed, from the distance, it was probably as long as his forearm. Far bigger than any of the fish Sally had ever brought home. And, it was slow. It hadn’t noticed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could catch it! He catch it and give it to her and maybe then, whatever her response would be to his confession would be- lessened? He didn’t know what. But he was going to catch that fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited, knees bent, slowly inching his way towards where the fish was headed, watching as the sunlight glinted off its silvery scales, creating an almost autumn gold across its back as it swam. Slowly cornering itself into a rock pool-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shot his hands down and latched his fingers around it, holding tightly as the fish began to thrash- and….shift….and change….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised with a start he was no longer holding a fish beneath the water, but a very soaked, very frightened, very toothy Sally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, was she- He quickly released his grip on her shoulders and turned away. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck! Fuck! I am so fucked!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely got the words out before he felt a sharp slap across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He staggered back, keeping his face turned away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU!” she shrieked, slapping at him once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to back away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sally! Please! It’s not what it-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His foot slipped and he stumbled, splashing into the water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all the same aren’t you!” he quickly scrambled to the side, slowed by the water, as he dodged a kick aimed at where his face had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking humans!” Sally snapped her teeth towards him as he nearly slipped once more, clawing his way back onto the rocks where he had left the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal! I swear! I didn’t know it was you!” he didn’t bother to grab the blanket as he bolted away from the rocks and onto the sand. The wind was knocked out of him as Sally, lightning fast, barrelled into him, knocking him hard on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain shot through his still healing scar, piercing through his abdomen as she locked her knees around his waist, pinning him before attempting to swing a punch down at his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur caught her first punch, but she grasped his free hand around his wrist, snarling, digging her knee into his wound until he released his grip with a cry of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal! Please!” he held his hands up in defeat, gasping as he fought the flickering white pain that flashed across his eyes. “Please! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t meant it! He truly hadn’t! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have guessed by now though, that she was a fish. It was obvious the more he thought about it, the teeth, the swimming, the sensing of the weather and tides, it all made too much sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” he flinched, holding his hands up as Sally made a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expected to feel a blow to his face, but it never came. Instead, he felt a light pressure of knuckles falling against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautiously, he cracked an eye open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you…” Sally was shaking, sniffling, her fists landing half heartedly against his chest as she began to sob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stupid STUPID boy!” she sobbed. “You stupid human boy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur, slowly, cautiously, took her hands in his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal?” he purposely kept his eyes locked on her face. “Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” she snapped, but didn’t move. “No I’m not fucking okay!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw me!” she whimpered. “You saw me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh shit!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur quickly clapped his hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry! It was an accident I swear-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that!” he felt Sally pry his hands away from his face. “You saw me! You saw…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trailed off, releasing his hands once more as she clambered off of him and turned her back, still sniffling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gingerly, pain still sparking through his core, Wilbur dragged himself back to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck was he supposed to do now?! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fucked up. He’d FUCKED up BAD. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell her his feelings, not now, that was probably the worst thing he could do now! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He awkwardly eyed her from where he stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was turned away from him -thank gods!- her autumn hair clinging to her back as she hugged her knees to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked haggard, thinner than he expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I uh…” he stammered. “I made a- I’ll just go get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to berate himself as he retrieved the blanket from where he had left it on the rocks, limping heavily from the recent strain to his wound, wincing. Gods he was stupid! So fucking stupid! This was so stupid! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully draped it over her shoulders when he returned, gingerly sitting down beside her as she hugged the blanket tightly around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” he said once more after a long bout of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know it was you.” he sighed. “I just wanted to be useful and catch a fish...I didn’t know….gods I’m so stupid!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t…” Sally mumbled. “You don’t hate me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked, confused as her amber eyes turned to his, damp with tears and seawater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal-Sal I don’t...what?” he stammered. Hate her? For what?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have left you!” she finally broke, sobbing into the blanket. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span> about leaving you! So many times! I hated you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean cause of the whole shape shifting thing-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hated you!” she snapped at him. “I still hate you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bore her teeth, snarling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate how you make me feel!” she hissed. “I hate that you make me feel happy! I hate that you make me feel safe! I hate that you make me feel so fucking confused about how I’m supposed to feel!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate that I don’t want it to stop!” Sally finally shrieked, burying her face into her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was stunned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t...what?” he was slowly, slowly starting to piece together her meaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been hurt before, that much was obvious. She’d been hurt by humans many times before, of course she would hate him for that alone. At the very least, she wouldn’t trust him. But she said she felt...safe? Happy? Around him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course that would be confusing, anyone would be confused by those sorts of emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be so much fucking easier if you just hated me back!” she rubbed a fist across her eyes. “Why can’t you just hate me back?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I can’t!” Wilbur took her hand. “Sal, I can’t hate you. I never would hate you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?!” she sobbed. “I’m a fucking fish! I could leave you, I wanted to leave you, I wanted to just- I wanted to let you die! I wanted you to drown! To just be another idiot in my life who would be gone the next day!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought about that, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> put up a facade when she had met him. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> faked the niceties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, she still stayed. That fact didn’t change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t though.” he gave her hand a light squeeze. “I...I don’t know why you didn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact you didn’t leave me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t change how he felt about her, he realised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for a bit, Sally curled up within the blanket, Wilbur’s hand on hers as she cried. Finally looking back at him as she sniffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you hate me?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur didn’t know what he was doing. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the piece of coral that had once pierced his side, and held it out to her. She took it, tentatively, her amber eyes never leaving his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his hands and slowly held them up to either side of her face, asking. To his surprise, she leaned into his touch, letting him awkwardly wipe a few tears from her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you feel happy around me.” he gently pressed his forehead to hers. “And that you didn’t want it to end, and that you hated that you didn’t want it to end.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her reach up with one hand and felt it rest against the back of his head, lightly thumbing through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I….I feel the same.” he finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to stay.” he added, pulling away as he released her. “I want you...I want you to be happy, and if that means leaving then that’s what I want for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sally’s glassy, golden eyes slowly blinked. Her hand slipped a bit from where it rested on the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I still do...I still want...you.” Wilbur finally stammered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was out there now. His feelings. Laid bare for her to tear into if she chose. He felt his heart throbbing in his chest as the anxiety of it all began to strangle him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fucked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fucked up so badly and now he was admitting his feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of him...actually wanted her to reject him for that alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Sally spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want...me?” her voice was shaky, but a soft smile played about her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Wilbur admitted, awkwardly glancing down to the sand they sat on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of me?” his head was tilted back up to look at her, her hand resting on the side of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So warm and soft and gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned into the touch, pressing his hand against hers, pushing her further into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” he said again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her smile form into a mischievous grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even fishy me?” she smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sputtered, laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” he choked. “Yes, even fishy you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dread that writhed within his chest suddenly vanished as the two cackled in laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d- oh my gods!” Sally hugged him. “You’d be a fish fucker?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to be a fish fucker?” Wilbur choked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t hear what else she said, he could barely hear himself as the two were smothered in a fit of giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had finally set, leaving a rapidly fading pink glow on the horizon as they continued to break out into laughter at even the slightest glance from one another, slowly huddling closer together as the chill of the night air began to settle around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, his wound still aching from the strain of laughing, Wilbur managed to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled as he gazed at Sally. Her face was pink from giggling, her eyes glistening from now dried tears, her hair still damp and clinging like strands of sunlight to her skin. The once silver patches on her cheeks and wrists and shoulders had turned a deep, dark red and green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Salmon, he realised. She’s a salmon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew what those colours meant now…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sal?” he took her head in his hands, lightly thumbing her cheeks once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah Wilby?’ she returned the motion and he flinched a bit at the sudden warmth against his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to kiss you.” he stated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart began to throb in his chest as he saw the red and green blush on her bare shoulders grow darker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” his voice nearly broke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he was startled as he saw her eyes widen, he let out a yelp as her hands pulled him sharply towards her face. And then he felt those sunburnt lips on his own, the same lips that had brought him back from the dead, the same lips that had breathed life into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flung his arms around her, deepening the kiss as they fell into the sand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had long gone from the horizon, the few pink streaks that had once still lit the sky were now completely faded, replaced by a deep, dark, star filled blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two on the beach were far from cold. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. “For a friend with an understanding heart is worth no less than a brother” ― Homer, The Odyssey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno and Sam have a heart to heart as he recovers from a rather terrible previous day.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: brief mention of minor healing wounds, implied past trauma, implied insomnia due to trauma, Techno comes to terms with himself, terrible jokes, Philza is implied to possibly have neglected to teach Techno a few things about attraction due to just not thinking about it but he didn't force Techno to believe a certain way</p><p>(Many thanks to a certain friend for advising me on this chapter :) </p><p>Hey yalls! <br/>Sorry for the late update on the Themiscyra arc, it's been a rough couple of weeks and I only recently started being motivated to write again. But! I'm feeling a lot better health wise and mental health wise, AND MY FRIEND JUST HAD A BABY! I'm an UNCLE! HOLY SHIT! </p><p>Thank you all so much for being patient and continuing to read and for all your wonderful comments! Stay hydrated, wash your hands, wear your masks, stay safe, and have a wonderful day! </p><p>:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was so tired lately. So bone achingly tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hugged the blanket to his chest, leaning against the cottage wall as his eyes groggily scanned the room. He still lay in the pile of blankets and pillows that Lucy used as a bed, his back to hers, the comforting warmth of another body seeping into his core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt relaxed at the sound of her breathing, the sensation of her heartbeat matching with his, but he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to sleep for hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He vaguely remembered Phil and Sam having left earlier, whispering amongst themselves as though he wasn’t awake. The group had all piled together last night, curled up within the blankets and pillows as if it was some sort of nest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a godsend, Techno thought to himself. While he still slept fitfully, while he still didn’t feel rested, while his exhaustion of the previous day still seeped into his bones with a deep ache, it had been heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d avoided Phil for so long, had avoided being around anyone really, uncertain of how to respond to his stress. Uncertain of how they would react to him if and when he did react. It was such a stupid worry, he chided himself, he knew that now. Of course Phil would understand his pain, he had known him since he was what, four? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course Sam would be understanding, she may not have known him as well as Phil or understood what he was going through, but she was patient. She was willing to learn what it was he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As was Lucy… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno pushed his back closer to the endergirl’s, closing his eyes at the soothing warmth and pressure of her form, the steady pattern of her breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been like that last night, but with Sam lightly stroking his hair, and Phil’s good wing sheltering the four of them in a feathered blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So similar to how he would hold Techno and Wilbur when they were younger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sighed, he’d missed this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearly dawn he noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The faint bit of pink morning light was beginning to flow gently through the window as soft birdsong and fluttering wings echoed in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smelled tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, Techno shuffled out of the pile of blankets, ensuring Lucy stayed asleep, before following the scent to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam was puttering about the kitchen, humming to herself as she went about preparing a fresh pot of tea and stacking a new set of scones on a tray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza was nowhere to be seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning dear,” Sam gave a slight nod as he entered the room, avoiding his eyes, to his relief. “How are you feeling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hugged his arms around himself, tugging at the ends of his hair, unconsciously continuing the same feeling of warmth and pressure and safety from the movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired.” he answered after a moment. “I didn’t sleep much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Lucy snore too loud?” Sam grinned as she set the tray of scones on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> snore.” Techno rubbed his eyes sleepily as he took a seat. “Phil did though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Sam chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you did too.” he added, yawning against the tiredness that pulled at his eyelids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not snore.” Sam took a seat opposite him before cocking an eyebrow. “...do I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno finally, for the first time in a long, long time, cracked a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were all in that room last night,” he took a scone, crumbling off a sugary crust piece into his hand and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. “Kinda hard to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> hear you two.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Sam straightened, taking a scone for herself. “Be grateful I suppose, that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> snoring.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno paused for a moment, pondering what she had meant, before flattening his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew.” he shoved the scone into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose.” Sam shrugged, taking a delicate bite of her scone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tha’s ma dad!” Techno huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you wanted him and I to get along?” Sam took another bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Techno wiped a series of crumbs off his face. “But you don’ have to be gross about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing gross about love dear.” Sam smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah there is.” Techno shoved another scone into his mouth, gods he was hungry! When was the last time he ate? Yesterday? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is the old man anyhow?” He changed the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Collecting mushrooms.” Sam gestured towards the window above the sink, at a light shadow that moved about in the garden outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucy grows a lot of her own food,” she explained. “Makes it easier on her to not have to go into the market often, or rely on us shipping it out to her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Garden! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Garden girl! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cute! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So cute! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can we garden? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Join? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d let us…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>E</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Might be scared…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scary Techno…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoscare…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad thoughts! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad thoughts! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno tugged at the ends of his hair once more as the voices started to wake up, seeping into his head with a, thankfully, slow and low drone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was manageable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s actually, kind of adorable.” he admitted under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smiled. “Thought you were disgusted by love?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah but...” he countered. “There’s many forms of it... right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> love her then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno felt a horrible redness flush into his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crush! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Little crush! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So cute! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technosoft! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Never work out….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So cute! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We love you Lucy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblush!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t…” he stammered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he? Is this what a crush was? He’d heard Wilbur talking many times about his own experiences.  How he’d feel as if there was something pulling on him, a sort of swooping feeling in his gut whenever he saw certain people. How he’d want to know more about them, how they occupied his thoughts and he felt jittery and stupid but excited all at once. He’d talk about them often, how pretty they were, how lovely their voice was, how he wanted to both spend time with them but also...spend </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span> with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Techno had never felt that for anyone. Sure he thought some of the people he’d met were pretty or handsome, or even kind and good natured, but he never felt what Wilbur had described. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But with Lucy...he wasn’t certain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sweet, she was smart, she was tall, he supposed that last one was a plus. It was nice being hugged by her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had nice legs? He guessed? He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did like her, though, he knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He enjoyed her company, he felt safe around her, he felt relaxed. He felt, shy, strangely. He was always shy, he knew, but it felt as if her presence made him even more aware of that fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t see himself spending </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her, the way Wilbur had with others. A part of him actually wanted to wretch at that thought. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be with her, be held by her, give her flowers, walk with her through the forest or along the beach, wake up early to tend the garden with her, oh gods….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno buried his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Sam smother a laugh. “Oh dear, are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technocrush! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technocrush! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So cute! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucy is cute…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blushy boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblush!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam…..” he mumbled between his hands. “What do I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard her stand and retrieve the pot of tea, humming to herself as she poured him out a cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he finally cracked his eyes open as she sat across from him once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the moment,” she continued. “I don’t think you should do anything you’re not ready for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How...how so?” Techno asked cautiously, taking the tea cup and placing it against his forehead, studying Sam’s expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never had this sort of talk with Phil before, he never fully felt comfortable with it after the man had explained to him and Wilbur what relationships entailed. It wasn’t that Phil seemed to expect him to be like Wilbur, more so he just didn’t think the two boys would be too different than the other. At least, that was what Techno thought. <br/>Though, he noted, his hesitancy -was that the right word?- to be in any sort of relationship, had not gone unremarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other teens, other adults, in the various cities and towns they had visited, would point it out in confusion. His lack of interest, his disgust in some cases, towards relationships that weren't friends. Most just called it odd, some said he'd grow out of it. A few, he remembered with a sharp distaste, thought something was wrong with him. And with not feeling comfortable with talking to Phil about it, through some sheer assumption that the man might also comment similarly, he'd kept quiet about it. He knew it was unlikely, highly unlikely Phil would judge him as others did, but the doubt chewed on him until he dropped the issue entirely. Until recently that was. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But, Sam didn’t seem to question his feelings on the matter. Perhaps, he could actually gain an understanding of what exactly he was feeling, what he should do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like Lucy?” Sam asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes.” Techno took a sip of the tea. “But, not like….</span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>….if you get what I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do still like her!” he added quickly. “I-I really do! I just...I don’t know, is that normal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is.” Sam smiled. “There’s many forms of relationships built on love, just as there are many different types of love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfectly normal to love someone around your age, and want to be with them, without certain types of affection.” She assured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for now,” Sam poured herself her own cup. “Considering all that’s happened recently, I think you should be mindful of your feelings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t force yourself to feel something that may not be there, but at the same time,” she added. “Don’t stifle anything that you might be feeling either. Let it grow naturally and see what comes of it before you make any decisions on what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Either staying friends, or,” she shrugged. “Whatever else you two might be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hid his face behind his hair, desperately trying to shield the blush that formed across his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although,” his ears twitched at Sam’s jesting tone. “Be careful, don’t forget what island she lives on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno chuckled awkwardly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, yeah, I’ve been warned before.” he said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears turned towards the sound of Philza finally opening the door, ruffling his healed wing slightly as he entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warned about what?” the man asked. “Not getting yourself into trouble, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got told if I ever hurt Lucy all of Themiscyra would come for my head.” Techno grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather not have an island full lesbains hunting you down?” Sam smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno blinked. “What’s a lesbian?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled her eyes to Phil. “Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man held his hands up in surrender. “Look I didn’t know the word for it either until recently!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what Themiscyra is but don’t know the definition of a woman who loves other women?” Sam groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Techno realised what she meant. “We just called them ‘wives’, didn’t really have a word for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his confusion, Sam sighed, then laughed. “Oh gods you’re both idiots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch.” Philza winked playfully at Sam, then took a seat besides Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you feelin’ mate?” his voice lowered gently with concern as he held a hand out to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno immediately took it, pressing his palm to his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired.” he sighed. “But, better now, I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned into Philza’s hand as the man lightly thumbed the edge of his hairline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d missed this. The warmth, the comfort, the security. It had been ages since he’d felt this safe. Sure, he was exhausted. His body still shook with fatigue and the cuts on his neck and shoulders still stung from yesterday, but he was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was safe, and loved, and yes it hurt, it would for some time. But he could mourn now. He was free to do so now. Whatever block had formed in his mind had finally broken, he could feel again, the good and the bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil?” he pulled his father’s hand back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I stay here for a bit?” Techno asked. “With Lucy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince,” Philza gave his hand a light squeeze. “You don’t need to ask me that, you’re always welcome to come and go as you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone should be asked, it should be Lucy.” Sam added. “This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> house after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That horrible blush rapidly spread across Techno’s face again and he quickly chugged down the tea before him and filled another cup, coughing awkwardly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have to ask…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love you Lucy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aww! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblush!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Awkward boy! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technocrush! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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